


Glimpses Leading to the Inevitable

by consoledacup



Series: Glimpses [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 71
Words: 59,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consoledacup/pseuds/consoledacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of snippets that weave in and out of the episodes that have been aired. Canon to the end of Season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Journey Into Mystery

“Just as I assumed, Simmons. The Night Night Gun _works_. You and I saved a man’s life today.” Fitz’s expression was smug, but Jemma could tell he was inwardly shaking from recent events. He had to have been. _She_ certainly was. 

“Again, Fitz. ‘Night Night’, really? Might as well just bend over now to our opponents with that ridiculous, unthreatening –”

“Oh, but ‘[w]hat’s in a name’, Simmons? I mean -”

“Shakespeare, Fitz? How original. The Brit quotes -”

“- whatever he damn well pleases, and if anyone doesn’t like it, they’ll suffer the wrath of our _working_ Night Night gun.” 

“I get it. We’ll discuss the name later. But you _were_ right about one thing. We did save a man’s life today.” Jemma’s eyes were soft with wonder, and she dared Fitz to ruin the moment with a (too easy) quip about _always_ being the right one. Much to his credit, he got the hint.

“ _This_ is where we’re supposed to be, Fitz. I didn’t fully know until right now. If we can keep using the advancement of science to save lives and do good, we’re _meant_ for this job.” Jemma’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I think we’re going to do incredible things here, Fitz.” 

“What on earth are you whispering for, Simmons? There’s not a soul around -”

“ _Ugh_. Leave it to you to ruin a perfectly nice -”

“Nice what? Nice round of you going ‘bout talking in a voice so low in volume I have to strain my perfectly functional ears to -”

“Forget it, Fitz.” Jemma threw her hands up in surrender. She stood up from the sofa, intending to retire to her bunk. 

“Simmons.” 

She turned around, eyebrow raised. Fitz grinned broadly. “We _are_ going to do incredible things here. And we’re the perfect pair to do them.”

Jemma chuckled softly, sitting next to Fitz once more. “We’re the perfect _team_ , really. Can’t forget the others. And I do hope that wasn’t the last we see of Skye. She’s quite something, isn’t she?”

Fitz’s voice strangely rose an octave. “I don’t - you know - I didn’t really notice. I mean, _sure_ , she’s an attractive human being -”

“I was referring to her impressive hacking capabilities.”

“- with her big brown eyes and long, flowing hair and -”

“Fitz?” 

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.” 

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fic! I didn't intend to write (I have in the past for other fandoms, but it's been awhile), but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, and FitzSimmons are honestly creating these brief moments all on their own. I thought a comprehensive set of "deleted scenes" from the eps all the way through Season 3 would be cool, and since I'm such a sucker for re-watching those scenes chronologically over and over, I can give myself another fun/productive excuse to do so. :)


	2. Eat That, Professor Vaughn

“Leave her alone!” Fitz was helpless. The soldier continued to roughly bind Jemma’s wrists behind her back, threatening her with a knife. Fitz tried to shove the man off of her but was swiftly rewarded with a punch in the gut, and he doubled over in pain. Wheezing, he instantly regretted the amount of time put into his studies, leaving none for learning the basics of street fighting. 

“Fitz! Are you alright?” Jemma’s tone was laced with concern, and Fitz lifted his head to look at her, nodding once, before being (quite rudely) jostled to face the security camera, the knife at his throat. He gripped his captor’s arms, struggling to break free to no avail. 

- 

The four other agents retreated back inside the plane while FitzSimmons opted to crack open another beer and remain where they were. 

“Wheels up in twenty,” May had warned before leaving the pair alone. 

Jemma was the first to break the silence. “That was a really stupid thing to do, by the way.” When he just looked at her with confusion, she continued, “Trying to beat up that man who was _clearly_ twice your size. He could’ve eaten you for breakfast, Fitz.” 

“Well, excuse _me_ for trying to help my best friend out of a lurch. You should be thanking me instead of lecturing me.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows indignantly. “ _Thanking_ you? Fitz, you nearly got yourself killed. Why on earth would I thank you for that?”

Fitz looked at her. “I can’t explain it,” he started. “But when I saw that man grab you -”

“Just. Please promise me you won’t unnecessarily put yourself in harm’s way again.”

“Why?” Fitz nudged Jemma teasingly. “Are you _concerned_ for my wellbeing, Simmons?” 

Jemma scoffed. “I just - we can’t be _FitzSimmons_ without the _Fitz_ part of it and if you are to insist on behaving so recklessly-”

“I hear you loud and clear, _Mum_. I’ll be careful.”

Jemma rolled her eyes, but Fitz didn’t miss the hint of a smile playing on her lips. Her expression grew serious. 

“Fitz, do you think we’ve done the right thing? Joining the team? I fear we’re going to encounter far more dangers and life-threatening scenarios than anticipated.”

Fitz exhaled loudly. “I don’t know, Jemma. But I _do_ know Coulson, May, Ward, and Skye - they got our backs. And maybe we’re _not_ prepared for the field. But the fact of the matter is - we blew up a plane and lived to tell the tale. So I count today a success.” He stood up, grabbing the handle of the cooler and headed into the plane, Jemma falling in step beside him. “Wouldn’t hurt to learn some _kung fu_ , though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly believe the first scene could’ve happened right before Coulson was shown the security feed. Regardless of fear and inexperience, Fitz would not be standing idly by if Jemma was threatened in any way.


	3. So Enthusiastic about Science

After a solemn debrief with the team about the events that transpired with Dr. Hall and the Gravitonium, Fitz pulled Jemma aside. “You don’t think that’ll ever happen to us, right? Where we become so obsessed in scientific discovery that we lose ourselves in the process?”

Jemma studied his expression. “Are you being serious? We joined Coulson’s team to help others. I think we’re quite safe from being destroyed by our egos.”

“And all that is fine and good, but it wasn’t that long when I thought the same of Dr. Hall. When does it start, Jemma? When does our curiosity morph into something more arrogant and self-serving and deadly?” 

Jemma stared at Fitz, disbelievingly. “Fitz. Do you actually expect me to consider the idea of _you_ choosing science over innocent people? Over our friends? Over _me_?” When Fitz didn’t respond, Jemma stepped closer to him. “I have never met a man with as big of a heart as yours.” She gestured to his chest then reached for his arm, squeezing gently. “We may be scientific geniuses, but we’re also much more than that, Fitz.”

“And what if we forget that bit, Jemma? What then?”

“Well,” Jemma looked thoughtful. “I suppose it’s up to us to keep each other accountable. Not that I think it’ll happen, but if one notices the other becoming consumed with phenomenons and ideas and theories to the point where our ethics are in question, she’ll remind him of -”

“Hey! What’s with the leading pronoun choice, Simmons? I thought you said that I -”

“Well, you _were_ the one who was worried enough about it happening to bring it up in the first place. I was simply taking your concern serio-”

“Seriously, my ass. You’re just feeling morally triumphant right now, is that it?”

“One of us has to fulfill that role, Fitz. Might as well be-”

“-the one with biggest heart. Couldn’t agree more, Simmons.” Fitz flashed her a toothy grin. 

“And already I’m regretting the compliment.” Jemma rolled her eyes.

“You have a big heart too, you know. Not as big as mine, but we can’t win them all, can -”

“ _Ugh_ , Fitz.” Her tone was exasperating, but her smile was playful. She truly didn’t understand how someone with as much integrity as Fitz had could even _question_ his motives. That _goodness_ was what she loved about him. Maybe even more than his scientific prowess. 


	4. You Have a Tell

“And just where are you speeding off to?” Jemma’s voice stopped Fitz in his tracks. It was bad enough that Skye almost saw _everything_ , but he certainly didn’t want to explain his predicament to Jemma. 

“Oh, you know. Just playing poker with Ward again. Got out before he beat me _too_ harshly. He’s a surprisingly good poker player - able to mask the truth and all, the wanker.”

“Yes, he is a bit of an interesting character. Almost as stoic and unemotional as May, really.” 

Fitz snickered. “I’d like to see _those_ two in a poker match. They’d be all…” He proceeded to hold up imaginary cards, and in an emotionless tone, he imitated Ward’s American accent, “your move, Agent May.”

Jemma burst out laughing. “That game would last centuries. Eons, actually.” 

Fitz’s eyes twinkled. “Our grandchildren’s grandchildren would most likely be the ones to find out the victor.” Jemma quirked her head at his insinuation, and he hurriedly continued to explain himself. “Not _our -_ ” he gestured between the two of them, “- grandchildren’s grandchildren, just. In the you know, um,  _general_ sense.” Fitz was horrified to feel his face heat up, and he scratched his head, avoiding Jemma’s gaze.

“And would it be so awful to have grandchildren with me?” Fitz snapped up, surprised to see almost an _offended_ expression cross Jemma’s features. “I’d make a very good wife and mother, you know. You don’t have to act like it’s the worst idea in the entire -”

“Yes, yes. Of course you would,” Fitz placated. “That’s not what I -”

“And furthermore, my past boyfriends have _all_ said I possess a maternal extinct. Sam, Greg, even _Milton_  have -”

“Ah, here we go with the exes again. If you wanted to marry one of them so badly, you should’ve just -”

“I’m _just_ saying that you could do a lot worse than me, Fitz.” Jemma crossed her arms and fixed him with a steely gaze. 

“Well, Simmons. Let’s just keep trying to survive these shenanigans on the Bus for now, and we’ll talk about our grandchildren later.”

“ _Ugh_. That wasn’t what I meant at -”

“I’m flattered, Simmons. Truly. But you know it’s gonna take a bit more to lock all of _this_ -” he pointed to himself, “down. I’d suggest -”

“You’re insufferable. I’m going to my bunk.”

“But _sweetheart_ , I thought it was ‘ _our_ bunk’.” He watched her leave in a _huff_  and chuckled softly. And then a troubling thought occurred to him that he didn’t even dare to entertain for more than a millisecond. _He certainly_ could _do a lot worse. In fact -_ but no. Thinking of Jemma and him like _that_ was a preposterous idea. Instead, he decided to look for Skye. Maybe _she’d_ be up for a round of poker. _Sans_ the X-ray vision glasses, of course. 


	5. Who Knows What They've Been Through Together?

Fitz was heartbroken. Of _course_ she would fall for someone badass and suave and good looking like Miles. Skye was too pretty, too cool, too _experienced_ to go for a guy like him. All he could offer her was his big brain. Which - granted - was _a lot_  but typically not the first thing girls seek out. 

“There you are!” The Bus was docked for a bit, and the team was encouraged to stretch their legs and walk out into the open night air. Fitz turned around to see Jemma catching up to him, matching him stride for stride. “What’s gotten into you, Fitz? You’re grumpier than normal.”

“Hey! I happen to think I am an _extremely_ mild-tempered -”

“Come on, Fitz. Out with it.” Jemma stopped walking and looked at Fitz, giving him a firm idea that she wouldn’t let this go.

“It’s just that - Skye had a boyfriend and didn’t tell us. I still feel betrayed. She - she was a part of our team and let us down. She put her - her _man_ \- ahead of the good of the mission.” 

“Well, remember what I told you earlier. We have no idea about their history. He’s obviously extremely important to her.” Fitz’s scoff did nothing to deter Jemma from continuing. “What about us, huh? If someone were to approach us tomorrow and say you and I had to be split up and sent to opposite sides of the country, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say they’re mad. Anyone with half a brain and half an idea of the kind of history we share would be absolutely - _abso -_ okay - I see your point.”

“As you should. And if anyone should really be hurting right now, it should be Ward. Have you seen the way he looks at her when she isn’t watching? I gotta say - the silent, brooder type is really working for -” Jemma begins to fan herself in front of an amused Fitz. “Oh, come off it! Not for me - for _Skye_. They’d be quite perfect together. Though I don’t know if either of them see it.”

Fitz forced out a chuckle. “A shame, that. Nothing more frustrating than watching two people interact with each other who don’t realize what’s directly in front of them.”

“Right.” Jemma gripped his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Now are you quite done moping? It’s freezing out here, and I’ve just made your favorite tea and thought we could watch the Zhores Alferov documentary we recorded on the DVR.”

“Now _why_ would I want to- wait. That actually sounds quite nice.” Not for the first time, Fitz was touched by Jemma’s gesture and how well she knew him. 

Jemma scoffed, “I should think so. It’d be pretty upsetting if I didn’t know how to cheer you up after ten years of being your friend.”

“Fair point, Simmons. Lead the way.” Fitz motioned for her to walk ahead of him. Releasing his hand with a final squeeze, Jemma gave him a warm smile and then bounded back to the Bus. She didn’t even turn around to see if Fitz was behind her. 


	6. The Whole Damn Time

**JEMMA.**

**_JemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemma_ **

_Almostalmostalmostalmost_ **almost** _lost_ **_Jem-_ **

**_Almost_ ** _lostlostlostlost_ **_lost_ her.**

**_Her._ **

**_Her._ **

**_Her._ **

**_Her._ **

**Jemma.**

**_JemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJem-_ **

“Fitz?” Jemma waved her hand in front of his face and chuckled when he shifted his focus to her. to _her._ to **_her_**. “Thought I lost you for a minute there.” 

_ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtI-_

_NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo_ **NO. NO.** “No!”Fitz’s eyes were squinted shut and his fists were balled up and his heart was several thousand feet in the air _fallingfallingfallingfallingflailingflailingfallingfallingfallingflailing falling falling_

_ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtI-_

“Fitz!” He opened his eyes and saw a very concerned (very _alive_ alive alive **alive** ) looking Jemma. A concerned, alive Jemma. An _**alive**_ Jemma. “Are you quite alright, Fitz?” It had been **four** days since the - since the  _incident_ , and Fitz couldn’t escape reliving what happened. He knew he was acting weird but was unable to do a thing about it. Because there she was. In the flesh. Unscathed. **Alive**. There she was. There she _always_ was. And he had to get away. 

“You know, I’m actually feeling a bit spent at the moment. I think I’m going to turn in early.” He stood up from where he was perched next to her on the sofa and only caught a glance of her bewildered expression as he escaped to his bunk. He lied down on his bed, intertwined his fingers behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling, allowing his thoughts to finally, _finally -_

He was pelted by images. Images of her. It was always her. Always, always, _always_ **her. Jemma. Jemma. Jemma. _Jemma._**

Images of **_Jemma_** \- images of the wind sweeping her away from him - those images, _images_  burned/scalded/scorched his brain to where they remained a permanent brand. That image of flying than falling _falling falling_ **falling falling falling falling** and that image of her introducing herself ten years ago when they were _finally_ forced to work together as lab _**partners**_. That image of her being embraced by his mum and missing his mum’s knowing look and his mum’s private discussion with him after where _I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Mum. Jemma and I are merely -_ ** _merely -_ merely - **

**Jemma.**

**Jemma.**

**Jemma.**

**Jemma.**

**_J.e.m.m.a._ **

His mind, his heart, his whole being were enraptured by those five little, formerly insignificant letters and _stop - stop -_ **STOP.**

He squeezed his eyes tight and pressed his fists into them forcefully in a vain attempt to block out the images - the images - the _images_ of her creating her own extra credit projects and the images of her getting a little too wasted in the boiler room and the images of her snapping candids of him whenever she pleases despite his protests and the images of her convincing him to join Coulson’s team - **Coulson.** It was all his bloody fault. If it hadn’t been for Coulson and these stupid life-or - or - **OR-** scenarios, then he wouldn’t’ve known, would’ve remained blissfully unaware, wouldn’t’ve have realized that - **_that_**

_ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlo- lo - lo- lo- lo- lov-_ **NO.**

**_NO._  **

**NO.**

**NO.**

**NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.** _.....yes._

Because there she was at the Academy and there she was at Sci-Ops and there she was with that damn _cat_ and putrid liver and there she was with her wide-eyed enthusiasm and there she was with her shiny brown hair and there she was with her inhuman love of homework and there she was with her _God-awful_ lying and there she was with her beautiful brown eyes and there she was with her two PHDs and there she was with her _stupid_ exes and there she was with her girly screams and there she was with her dragging him to the Bus and there she was with her wonderful family that he called his own and there she was with her tea addiction and there she was with her bickering and there she was with her duty to S.H.I.E.L.D. and there she was with her sorry combat skills and there she was with her fervor to see the world and there she was with her freckled skin and there she was with her infectious laugh and there she was with her finishing his sentences and there she was with her love for humanity and there she was with her knowing him better than anyone and there she was with her  **jumping out of a plane** and there she was with her full, red lips and there she was with her initially intimidating mind and all he wanted to do was impress her and _damn it, Fitz._ How was that not a - not a -

_ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlostyou ThoughtIlov - lov - lov - **lov-**_

_**...** _

_**SHIT.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a Faulkner-esque ficlet, and I can finally see why that man (whom I vowed would rue the day when I was in eleventh grade AP Lit) chose the stream-of-consciousness avenue. It is very addicting.


	7. Mr. Save-the-Day

“He saved my ass, you know.”

Ward startled Jemma out of her thoughts - thoughts of **no** extraction team and close calls - and _ **why** _ did she ever think it was a good idea to join Coulson’s team with poor, incapacitated Agent Sitwell and Fitz going _dark_ on a mission and almost not getting out and -

“What?” 

“Fitz. He was quick thinking and helped get us out of really dangerous situations.”

Jemma gave Ward a small smile. “Look, Ward. I think it’s sweet of you to be modest about your mission, and Lord _knows_ he needs the confidence boost, but you don’t have to put up pretenses with me.”

Ward put his hand on her shoulder. Jemma tried to ignore the _swooping_ sensation in her gut at the touch. “You don’t get it, Jemma,” he started slowly. “I’m not being humble or modest. If it weren’t for him, we’d both be dead. Despite what you think, he _is_ cut out for this job.”

Jemma backed away, crossing her arms and stared him down. “I beg your _pardon_? Do you not think I think him capable of the work? Do you think I think so little of my _best friend_? Of _course_ , he’s cut out for this. I wouldn’t have suggested we join the team in the first place if I thought we couldn’t handle it. I don’t know where you get off thinking that I consider him less than - less than… You know, he’s just as much a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent as you are - and I wha- why are you smiling?” Jemma was almost enraged at Ward’s insinuation, and his little knowing grin was enough to tip her over the brink. 

“You sure you two don’t share the same brain?” Ward asked coyly.

“Finishing each other’s sentences does _not_ equal a shared cerebral -”

“I’m kidding, Simmons.”

“Yes. Yes, of course you are. Right then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because even evil Ward shipped Fitzsimmons.


	8. It's Time to Jump In

Jemma pressed the “end call” button on her cell and worried her lip between her teeth.

_“You need to seriously consider if this is the best set-up for you and Fitz,” her dad had warned. “I know you can’t tell me much, but imagine your poor mother if the scenario that you described didn’t end with your colleague rescuing you. Is all of this worth it, Jemma?”  
_

_Was it? Was it worth it? All the fear and danger and close calls…was it really worth it? Was it -_

“Jemma?” Fitz’s voice was soft, and he timidly approached her open bunk. Jemma hurriedly wiped away her tears, but there was no fooling Fitz. His worried gaze betrayed his comforting smile. “How are your mum and dad doing? Everything alright?”

“Fitz,” Jemma started. “Are we being _selfish_ , going on these grand adventures and having these near brushes with death and making our families _ill_ with worry?” She took a wavering breath and repeated her father’s earlier sentiment. “Is all of this really _worth_ it? My dad accused me of being thoughtless and reckless with my own life - and I - do you think he maybe has a point?” 

Fitz gave her an easy smile. “No.” 

“But Fitz -”

“Don’t ‘but Fitz’ me, I meant it, Jemma. Your father - as dear of a man as he is - he has one limited perspective - and that’s of his _baby girl_ almost _dying_. He doesn’t know about the incredible difference we’re making. We’re not treating our lives flippantly; we’re S.H.I.E.L.D.. Sacrifice is required, risks are involved, but our purpose is greater than the sum of its parts. And don’t let your dad guilt you into believing that isn’t so. But perhaps it’s best we not relay _everything_ to our parents next time.” 

Jemma was overcome with gratitude and stared at Fitz for a brief moment before swiftly standing up off her bed. She leaned into Fitz, wrapping her arms around his middle, eliciting a slight _umph_ , and her heart felt light when his arms reached to hold her against him firmly. All too soon, he let go of her and cleared his throat, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Right. Well. I’ll just - I need to have a chat with Ward about something, so I’ll see you soon.” He left her bunk rather quickly, and Jemma catalogued his behavior with the other particular ones she'd been privy to as of late. Whatever was going on with Fitz was sure to pass, right? _Yes._ Whatever issues Fitz was dealing with - he would tell her in time. And it certainly wouldn’t be anything she needed to worry her friendship over…

 _…right?_  


	9. Childish Nonsense

_“FITZ!”_

Jemma’s yelp had Fitz dashing out of his bunk in order to flee to her aid in what sounded like a very serious situation.He found her exiting the bathroom and stopped short at the sight before him. Jemma was _drenched_. Her mascara was running down her face in two parallel, smeared tracks. Tendrils of her hair were sticking to her cheeks, forehead, and ears. She was wearing a _thin_ , baby pink blouse that was currently soaked through  _and_...he hurriedly looked down where he noticed another splotch of water located _very_ inconveniently on her pants. The humor of the situation thankfully trumped the... _other..._ aspects, and he gave way to the hearty laughter bubbling in his chest.

Jemma watched him for a minute before slowly approaching him. “This. is. not. _funny._ ” She emphasized each word with an accompanying poke to his chest, and her shirt was _soaked through_ , and he forgot how to breathe again in a very different sense. Her eyes were streaked black, her hair was matted to her head, her clothes were a mess, and he had never felt more of an animalistic attraction to her. Standing so close to her was affecting him profusely, and he lightly, _innocently_ stepped back a few inches in order to keep his rather _inappropriate_ thoughts to himself.

He threw his hands up, indicating his surrender. “Okay. It’s not funny. But what on _earth_ happened to _you_ , Simmons?”

Jemma’s eyes were severe and they narrowed to fix him with a threatening glare. “As if you didn’t know, Fitz.”

“I promise you - I definitely don’t. I was in my bunk before I heard your _blood-curdling_ scream, which - by the way - I’ll thank you to show some acknowledgement that I made it so quickly to your side, because i thought you were - oh, I don’t know - in mortal _peril_!” He crossed his arms in a superior manner, and a small part of him knew he was riling her up even more (and a _smaller_ part of him really,  _really_ liked it). 

“Don’t you _dare_ lie to me, Leopold Fitz. I _know_ you rigged the flush valve in order to spray me when I used the loo just now. I _told_ you I didn’t _hijack_ you with shaving cream while you were sleeping! There was _no_ need for retaliation for something I _didn’t_ do.” 

“Of _course_ it was you behind CreamGate! Who _else_ was plotting pranks with me extensively?” 

Jemma gritted her teeth, “ _CreamGate_ is about as stupid as a name as -”

“Don’t you dare,” Fitz warned.

“- Night Night Gun.”

Fitz clutched his chest, and glared at her, “ _Obviously,_ your distress is clouding your sound judgement, because I _know_ you did _not_ just say that.”

“You better watch your _back_ , Fitz. You just made a very powerful adversary.” 

Fitz smirked and placed his hands on his hips. “I’m _literally_ shaking from your empty threats. What are you going to do, Simmons? Ring out your sopping wet hair on me when I least expect it?”

The words had barely escaped his lips when Jemma flung herself at him, pressed her body against his, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She let go as quickly as she embraced him, leaving a dumbfounded Fitz in her wake. Spinning around and heading to her bunk, she triumphantly quipped, “Bet you weren’t expecting _that_!”

Fitz waited for his brain to start formulating actual thoughts and recognized that the feel of Jemma so close to him during their heated banter was not something he’d be forgetting anytime soon. He glanced down and noticed a rather inconvenient splotch on his _own_ pants and yelled to his already departed foe, “ _Very_ mature, Jemma!” 

He barely noticed Ward approach him, visually taking Fitz in, until he heard, “Hey Fitz, why don’t you try unzipping your fly next time? You’ll probably have better aim.”

_**Simmons.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I absolutely love that badass, super stealth May delights in Three Stooges/physically comedic pranks, so I’m sure she totally rigged the toilet hose to spray (clean, of course) water at Jemma at some point and reveled in watching Fitzsimmons blaming each other.


	10. We Have Machines for That

Fitz threw down the heavy weights with a grunt and braced himself with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He placed the weights back on the stand - Ward was downright _evil_ if the training equipment was left out of place in any way. He sprawled out on the floor mat and then proceeded to do several reps of sidewinder crunches. 

Jemma was a _flirt_. And he made fun of her in the past for it, because she was the most awkward flirting specimen around - save for himself, of course - and he’s had _quite_ a few laughs at her expense.

But now? Now when she’s not just Simmons but _Jemma_ \- when she’s not just his best friend but _more_ than that - _it. pisses. him. off._

He got up from the mat and wrapped his hands in elastic cloth. Once the ends were secured, he started taking his frustrations out on the hanging punching bag (that he _swore_ he saw move _thank you very much_ ) repeatedly.

“ _There_ you are. I’ve been been all up and down the Bus, looking for you. Didn’t even think of checking here.”

Fitz punched the bag exceptionally hard and tried to hide his grimace as best he could when pain shot through his fist. “And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I mean nothing by it, Fitz - I’m just used to seeing you working on projects - not working _out_.” 

“Well, maybe you _should_ get used it,” Fitz retorted. Jemma opened her mouth to speak, but Fitz hastily cut her off. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from my limited experience in the field - it’s that we need to be more physically prepared for the job.” He shifted uneasily from Jemma’s questioning stare and was grateful that she didn’t press him further about it. He knew his response sounded weak, but he certainly didn’t want to delve into the _actual_ reason with her.

“Well, then. Do you - are you ready to work on Mike’s tactical gear?”

“Yep. Let’s get to it.” Fitz unwrapped the cloth from his hands, and Jemma helped him clean up the training center.

“Mike’s anatomical makeup certainly is impressive, isn’t it?”

Fitz threw the freshly folded floor mat in the corner with an exaggerated _umph_. “I guess so. He is part superhero and all.”

Jemma gave an appraising nod. “That he is, Fitz.”

“Just don’t go getting all googly-eyed and distracted while we build his suit, okay?”

“I beg your pardon?” 

Despite the alarm bells going off in his brain, Fitz continued his lecture. “You think I don’t know _exactly_ why you wanted to get his measurements _manually?_ Man _handled_ is a more apt term, I reckon.”

Jemma fixed him with a steely gaze. “Regardless of whatever attraction I possess or don’t possess - I assure you, _Dr._ Fitz, that I will be nothing but professional. I can’t believe you - of all people - think so little of -”

“I _don’t_ , Jemma. Just forget I -”

“- me - that you _assume_ I would allow my personal life to -”

“Personal life?! So you and Mike are a -”

“We’re a _nothing_ , Fitz! Have you gone mad?! The only thing he is to me is the man I made a fool of myself in front of not two hours ago. That’s it. Now if you please, I’d like to focus on _actual_ matters of importance.” Jemma stormed off, and Fitz trudged slowly behind her. He grimaced again when the pain ventured back to his sore hand.

“ _Ow_.” 


	11. Couldn't Be Better, Old Chap

The trio stared at May, mouths agape, as she ended the call and handed Jemma back her phone.

 “Skye thinks she found a lead.” 

“So let me get this straight. You were scheming all _along_ for Skye to do her own digging away from Agent Hand’s surveillance? You actually kicked Skye off the Bus without her knowing your true feelings of the matter?” Fitz was still clearly not over May’s sudden alliance shift. 

“Sometimes, you have to deceive even your allies in order to achieve your end goal,” Ward defended, shrugging.

“Yes, but was all that _really_ necessary? You could’ve relied on us to keep the ultimate plan under wraps. In fact, I’m a bit miffed you _didn’t_ trust us,” Fitz pouted. 

May fixed him with a _very_ pointed look. “Did you or did you not happen to witness the train wreck that was Agent Simmons on the phone just now?”

“ _Hey!_ ” Jemma protested. May simply raised an eyebrow at her and Jemma let out a sigh of concession. “ _Fine._ You’re right. Does it get easier?”

“Yes. But it does come with a price.” May’s expression was unreadable.

Fitz put his hands on his hips, rolling his eyes. “Well, gee, _that_ doesn’t sound ominous at all.” The longer Coulson was M.I.A., the more sour and surly Fitz had become. When Fitz had talked earlier of it being almost best to be rid of all the Centipede soldiers (controlled against their will or not), Jemma wasn’t prepared for the darker undertones of his statement. The field was changing her best friend. That much was evident. What she couldn’t understand was if it was for the better or the worse. No matter. There would be plenty of time to dwell on that _after_ they rescued Coulson.

“Well, I, for one, take back everything Fitz and I said about you behind your back, Agent May.”

“No need. All true.” She brushed past a startled FitzSimmons who could do nothing but stare at her once more. “You _both_ need to work on your stealth. Now, enough talk. Let’s get Coulson back.” 

-

“Ward has quite a lot of charisma, doesn’t he? You know. I mean. He has quite a dominating presence.” Jemma and Fitz were enjoying a nice beer together, relieved to have their commander back into the fray.

Fitz scrunched up his nose before taking a long pull from his drink. “I suppose so.”

“I mean. He was just so- so _firm_ with Agent Hand, defending us and Skye like that.” Jemma felt herself flush, but luckily Fitz didn’t seem to notice. “He’s going to make an incredible leader someday.” _There_. _That_ statement wasn’t laced with unintended innuendoes.

“Yeah. It’s nice to know that he and May aren’t _really_ autotrons.”

“I heard that,” May sauntered past.

“It’s a compliment, May. I swear!”


	12. The Popular Kids

“Did you really think I hated you?”

It had been a couple of days since the events at the Academy, and Jemma was still reeling from the idea of her alma mater not being the safe haven it once was.

“Sorry?” She was in the kitchen, fixing herself some tea and almost didn’t notice Fitz preparing his own beside her. She wordlessly poured hot water in both cups and waited for Fitz to repeat his earlier question.

“At the Academy? You thought I _hated_ you?” Jemma opened her mouth to protest. “Denying is futile, Simmons. I’ve just had a _very_ enlightening chat with Skye.”

Jemma exited the kitchen, grasping her cup firmly with both hands, pausing for Fitz to catch up to her. “What was I supposed to think, Fitz? You didn’t talk to me for _months_.”

“Well there’s a perfectly good explanation for th-”

“I would invite you to join me for meals, and you always refused. I would try to engage you in conversations about how _ridiculous_ Professor Vaughn was, and you would just give me this _look_ and walk away. Anytime I answered a question in class, you made sure to correct me in front of _everyone_. Admit it - before you saw me as the perfect half to this partnership, I was your arch rival.”

Fitz tilted his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Did it ever occur to you that I maybe had a different motivation?” 

“ _Yeah_. That you considered me a strong adversary and wanted to put me in my place as much as poss-”

“I was trying to _impress_ you,” Fitz shrugged nonchalantly. 

“-ible to show that you - _what_?” Jemma almost dropped her tea at Fitz’s confession. They had a great relationship now of course, but she couldn’t help always feeling slightly bitter and hurt of Fitz’s treatment of her when they first met. She looked at Fitz expectantly, waiting for him to continue, and his neck growing increasingly red wasn’t lost on her.

“I was incredibly shy, Simmons. Come on, now. _You’re_ the one who’s supposed to have two PhDs.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? In case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t exactly surrounded by friends eith-”

“I couldn’t even look you in the eye, Jemma.” 

“Well, that’s- that’s just _great_. Now I feel completely _awful._ ”

Fitz was clearly puzzled. “Why on earth does that make you -”

“Because I behaved absolutely _abhorrently_ , trying to beat you in everything I could think of. I thought you - well. I’m not quite sure what I thought, but it certainly wasn’t that you were too _shy_ to talk to me. Do you realize the months of missed opportunities you and I shared because of that?”

“You don’t have to make a fuss about it. It _has_ been ten years. And besides, I’d say everything worked out quite nicely.”

“I just- I want it known that anything malicious I did or said to you those months were because I genuinely thought you didn’t think it worthwhile to get to know me. And I was simply acting out of hurt feelings and a bruised ego.”

Fitz gave an easy laugh at that. “You were about as _malicious_ as a baby pygmy marmoset. I think the most offending thing you did was stick your tongue out at me after being commended by Dr. Weaver for your _very_ extensive and elaborate Peggy Carter extra credit project.”

“Right. Well. That’s good, then. And I am happy to know that after all these years, you didn’t hate me.”

Fitz gave her a strange, indiscernible look. “I don’t know if I have it in my genetic makeup to _ever_ hate you.”

Jemma had to look down from the intensity of his gaze. And she was about to delve further into what exactly -

“Debrief in five. Coordinates set to new location.” Jemma didn’t know if she was annoyed or _relieved_ that May’s voice over the intercom interrupted the - _whatever that was -_ that she and Fitz shared, but Fitz gave her a quick wink and headed to the holo-table. 

As she watched him leave, she smiled to herself about the one thing that she wholeheartedly agreed with Fitz about. She didn’t think she had in her _own_ makeup to ever hate him either. And that thought - that mutual sentiment they shared - brought her peace.


	13. To Keep Her Alive

_“Out, damned spot!”_

All she saw was _blood_. So much _damned_ blood. Jemma scrubbed vigorously at her stained hands. 

_“Out, I say!”_

Jemma saw blood on her hands and blood on her arms and blood on her face when she forgot that one moment and wiped her brow and blood on…on…

She didn’t know what else to do. She did all she could, right? Her friend was going to die, and it was on her watch. Skye had to pull through. She _had_ to. 

_“What, will these hands ne’er be clean?”_

All she saw was blood. There was _so_ much _red_ coming from Skye.

_“Here’s the smell of the blood still.”_

There was blood on Skye’s clothes and blood in her hair and blood trickling from her mouth and blood - _oh_ , so much blood from her stomach. She wiped her hands a bit more until succumbing to the waiting fatigue.

_“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, Oh, Oh!”_

She cursed her photographic memory at times like this. After all, she had read _Macbeth_ only once when she was nine years old and couldn’t appreciate the complexity of the play (although she understood every word, thank you very much) when she did. _Well_. She supposed she had a clearer idea now. Though she would never revert to Lady Macbeth’s treachery, she _did_ know what it was like to _fight_. And the haunting _guilt_ that comes from it.

_“Wash your hands.”_

_**Blood. Blood. Blood. Bl-** _

She felt a comforting presence behind her and and a firm, reassuring grip on her shoulder, and she didn’t even need to check, because she just _knew_. She slightly turned and showed Fitz her _red_ hands, but he didn’t seem to mind as she studied his piercing gaze and the **blood** briefly turned to- _to_ \- she didn't really know. He gathered her into his arms, encouraging her to _finally_ release all the pent-up… _everything_ she had been trying to desperately keep at bay _._

He held her and murmured soothing, unintelligible words to her, and his thumbs moved in pacifying, circular motions on her back, and she had never felt more at home. 

They stayed like that for awhile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because that famous scene from Macbeth would not leave my soul when I watched that bit with Jemma. And now that we know more of Jemma through season 3, guilt is a big, big thing with her. 
> 
> And I think it’s entirely possible for FitzSimmons to be able to tackle extremely difficult works of literature and other parts of learning without being able to grasp the complexity of human emotion and subtext. In fact, I’ve taught one prodigy where after giving a very thoughtful and thorough answer to a question, he proceeded to fart loudly in his seat, as all fifth grade boys are want to do from time to time.


	14. Takes You by Surprise

Fitz took a quiet moment to watch Skye sleeping, dumbfounded by her recovery. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. after all. The branch of government that dealt with mysteries out of the norm of explanation. And he and Jemma discovered Coulson had the same miraculous break thru not two years ago. 

Still. He couldn’t help but _marvel_. Skye was _alive_. And it was because of the elusive GH-325 and his best friend. He couldn’t believe Jemma succeeded in keeping Skye alive. He saw the bullet wounds. Skye should’ve been dead, but Jemma was resilient and did the -

“She did the impossible.”

Fitz turned to get a look at his new companion. He vaguely remembered hearing his name. What was it - _Flip? Skip?_ \- he couldn’t recall. There were more important matters to attend to when pleasantries were exchanged.

The man continued speaking, “Agent Simmons. She did the impossible.” Fitz continued to stare, really taking in the man’s appearance. He had dark skin and a good couple inches (at least) on Fitz. He sported well-groomed facial hair and an _impressive_ physique, but the most distinguishable features about him were his expressive eyes and easy-going smile. “Fitz, right? Agent Simmons mentioned you.”

Fitz’s ears perked up at that. “She- she did? What- wha- never mind. Yeah. That’s me.” He extended his hand out to Agent _Rip?_ , and the man shook it with enthusiasm. “I apologize, Agent, but I don’t remember -”

“The name’s Triplett. But everyone calls me Trip.” _Trip! That_ was it. “You close with Skye, too?”

“She’s like a sister to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if - well. I’m just glad she pulled through.”

“And Agent Simmons? You guys close too?” Fitz detected a _bit_ more than curiosity leaking through Agent Trip’s tone.

“The closest. We’ve been partners for ten years, you know.”

Trip let out a low whistle. “ _Man_. Ten years, huh? You’re lucky to have someone like her in your corner.” _Okay._ There _definitely_ was something more to that statement. Especially after witnessing the far-off, _dreamy? really?!_ \- look Trip was currently wearing. 

“Yeah, well. We take care of each other. I’d follow her anywhere.”

“Huh. And how long have you and Simmons…?” Trip trailed off, looking at Fitz meaningfully.

“Me and Jemma? Are you mad? That’s a - that’s a _preposterous_ idea. We’re just-”

“ _Jemma.”_ **Okay.** Fitz did **not** appreciate the way Trip was saying her name. Like he was - he was - “Pretty name.”

Fitz could only nod, his heart sinking. He was already (childishly) picturing the wedding: him grumbling in his seat in the back, Trip and Jemma holding hands, repeating vows to each other, _kissing…ugh._ He was going to be _sick_. And really, it wasn’t -

“Anyway. I’m glad Skye’s okay. Seems like you guys need her as much as she needs you. You’ve got a strong team, Agent Fitz.”

Fitz let go of his petty, immature thoughts and gave Trip a small smile. 

“Yeah. The strongest.”


	15. All Men Are Weak

_**LORELEI**._

His heart. His soul. His mind. They all centered around that one name. That one thought. 

Sure, he’s been in lov- er. _Sure,_ he’s been in lo- well. **Sure,** he’s been in -

That’s besides the point. Simmons is a _girl_. Lorelei is a bonafide  _ **woman**_.

Whatever feelings he had for Jemma were gone now. He and Lorelei were meant to be. He’d go to the ends of the earth for her. They’d live wherever she wanted, because he trusted her judgement implicitly. And he’d take down anyone that would _dare_ stand in her way. Like now. With the irritating Lady Sif. Couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?

He wondered about what kind of wedding he and Lorelei would inevitably have. Would they elope at some exotic place - like the Seychelles or something - or would they have a grand affair, inviting all of Scotland and Asgard? He would simply have to run it by her... ** _Lorelei_**. She always had the _best_ ideas. In fact, she- 

A gasp interrupted his dreamy thoughts. He turned around.

_Simmons_.

How on earth did _she_ get out? He had taken care to lock her and Skye in with precision. She was going to muck up _everything_. He abandoned his lady love and went on the hunt for Simmons - whom had already fled - _the coward_. 

He chased her down the stairs, and when she stopped right in front of the lab, he assumed she finally caved to reason. Here was his perfect opportunity to-

-

He winced as Jemma lightly touched his bruised eye. “The swelling seems to have gone down, Fitz. You’ll be square in no time.” 

Fitz only nodded, still slightly embarrassed by his actions. 

“Enough with your pity party, Fitz. I know that wasn’t really you. That you weren’t acting of your free will.”

Fitz sighed. “That’s the thing, Jemma. I _was_ acting of my own free will. I wasn’t controlled. I was doing all of those willingly. The only difference was - my allegiance had changed. Instead of all of my wants and desires centering around -” Fitz stopped before humiliating himself further, but he could feel his face flush all the same. “Well. My whole being felt like it existed _solely_ for her.” He looked at her meaningfully. “I just- i want you to know that I would _never_ do anything to hurt you. _Ever_.” 

Jemma smiled brightly. “Of _course_ not. You don’t think I know this? I trust you with my _life_ , Fitz.” 

“Right. Good then.”

“Besides, how could I fault your for your inherent male weakness?”

She strutted away from the lab to check on Skye, leaving Fitz to contemplate what she had just said. 

“ _Hey!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if this was purposeful, but I love that Coulson used Jemma as bait to break Fitz out of his trance. It’s just kind of a bit poetic, honestly.


	16. Don't Mind the Company

Jemma had retreated to a quiet corner in the situation room, digesting what she had just witnessed on screen. The Clairvoyant was dead. Of that she was sure. And instead of finding peace and relief in that fact, she was surprised to experience feelings of unease and uncertainty. Maybe it was because she saw her friend, her colleague, the one who always did the _right_ thing,  shoot the Clairvoyant in cold blood. Yes. The man deserved to die - was guilty of so many things, but _Ward_ just- she couldn’t grasp it. She needed to talk to someone who knew him as well as she did. She needed - 

“Penny for your thoughts, Agent Simmons?”

Jemma snapped her attention to the man in front of her. She was truly grateful Trip was at the Hub with her. He had a presence of stability and calm about him that she simultaneously appreciated and envied. And the fact that he was incredibly handsome wasn’t lost on her either. “It’s just - _Ward_. He _shot_ him. If you only knew Ward as much I do, you’d be shocked too. He’s just so morally upstanding and true - always doing what needs to be done - nothing more, nothing less. I just - I can’t quite make heads or tails of the situation.”

“Yeah, Garrett has nothing but honorable things to say about him.”

“Exactly! And I understand that he killed a wicked person. I’m certainly not disputing that. But it was _right_ after the man threatened Skye’s life. Ward tries to hide it, but he clearly has strong feelings for her. And I’m afraid his attachment is going to get him in trouble eventually.” Trip simply nodded, waiting for Jemma to continue, and she appreciated how nice of a listener he was. “I don’t know. It would - it would just be _really_ helpful to talk to Fitz right about now.” 

“Fitz told me you guys go a ways back. Must be nice to have a partner who knows you that well.” 

“We’re inseparable, really,” Jemma sighed.  

“Well, Agent Simmons, I hope you’re okay with me as a substitute for the time being.”

Jemma smiled shyly. “Of course not, Agent Triplett. To be honest, I’m quite glad you’re here right now.”

Trip’s smile seemed to light up his entire face. “And here I was - just thinking the same thing.” 

Jemma’s cell phone started buzzing, and she hurriedly grabbed it, grinning when she read the unfamiliar number. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Trip shook his head good-naturedly. “Yeah, go ahead and take that. Tell him I said-” 

But she was already out of the room, seeking a private place to talk to Fitz on the other end.


	17. Heard Everything

_“Is Simmons there? We don’t move until we find Simmons.”_

Fitz. Jemma was equal parts terrified and relieved to hear his voice. She still couldn’t grasp what she had just learned from Agent Hand. Hydra? Infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D.?! She felt sick. And then those damn seeds of doubt Hand placed in her head about Coulson- if there was an inkling of truth to what Hand insinuated, then her team was in danger. Fitz was in danger. And it took everything within her to not storm the surveillance room where Fitz and the others were currently regrouping. But she knew she was under strict orders to not do a thing until they gathered more intel on Coulson. And so. She allowed the steadiness of Trip’s presence to calm her and waited on baited breath for Hand’s orders. 

 _“...Drop down using Fitz’s sweet, little mouse hole, and put two bullets through Victoria Hand’s heart.”_ Jemma was impressed. Hand didn’t even flinch at Garrett’s threat.

 _“Yeah, it’s an option, sir.”_ _Oh,_ Fitz. She didn’t like that Fitz was even _considering_ that option (not because Hand was _definitely_ not Hydra, but because _Fitz_ was- well. It just- it didn’t sound right, coming from him), but S.H.I.E.L.D. was Hydra and Hydra was S.H.I.E.L.D. and _maybe_ she and Fitz _both_ needed to adjust to this new order. _If we’re to survive, we must strike first._ That _was_ what Hand said, right? 

 _“Without questioning?”_ Coulson certainly didn’t _sound_ twisted and corrupt. He still sou-

 _“Questioning what? Whether she wants to kill us fast or slow?”_ _Okay_. Garrett was really starting to grate on her nerves. But she supposed she couldn’t blame him. The poor guy didn’t _know_ Hand wasn’t Hydra. 

_“Last time we did that, we shot the wrong man.”_

_“Because she_ wanted _us to! Phil, this is a battle for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s soul, and we’re on the front lines.”_ She could _certainly_ relate to that sentiment quite well, given recent events.  _“History will remember us this day.”_

_“That’s right. It’s for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s soul. And murder without consideration is a sure -”_

_“_ Consideration _? Consider this! She had one of my men killed with a bomb rigged to his gas pedal. The other two were floating in the hotel pool, and they weren’t doing the backstroke.”_

 _“We can just as easily ice her.”_  She _knew_ Coulson wasn’t corrupted by Hydra. She _knew_ it. And the little parts that _didn’t_ know it - that previously gave into the crushing doubt - well. She’d set aside that guilt for later. Bottom line: if Coulson was Hydra, he would _not_ be fighting for Agent Hand’s life as he was so ardently doing.

 _“You don’t put someone like her on_ ice! _She shot Skye in the stomach.” Yes._ Jemma was _quite_ aware of that.  _“In the stomach - because she was curious. Mike Peterson burned alive and turned into some kind of freak.”_ Garrett’s voice grew louder, and Jemma could only attribute the change in volume to the passion behind his words. _“She tortured you, using that same machine she used to brainwash that bitch in the flower dress. And right now, she’s probably doing the same to Agent Simmons. Oh, I’ve considered it_ plenty, _my friend.” No!_ She wanted to scream. _I’m fine, I assure y-_

 _“No. Simmons will be fine.”_ Alright _then, Fitz._ His confidence in her abilities strengthened her, and she felt a great sense of gratitude for having a person in her life who believed that much in her. 

 _“Just being realistic, kid.”_ Understandable, yes. But in this instance, he had the whole situation wr-

 _“I never mentioned that.”_ Coulson’s words cut into Jemma’s thoughts, and she wracked her brain, thinking of what Garrett said earlier. 

_“I’m telling you- killing her quick would be a mercy.”_

_“I never said- Raina had been inside the machine. I never told that to anybody.”_

_“I must’ve read that in a report, then.”_ Garrett sounded a little less sure of himself, almost as if he were _...caught. **Oh.** **NO.**_

 _“You weren’t with us.”_ Coulson sounded deadly calm. 

 _“The point is - how many more have to suffer before Vic gets hers?”_ Garrett was _clearly_ attempting to deflect the accusation. _Oh. **B**_ ** _loody_ hell** _._ She exchanged glances with Trip and saw his panic ridden eyes. Her heart sank.

_“You showed up right after.”_

_“What are you driving at?”_

_“After Skye was shot. Quinn said it was so I would lead the Clairvoyant to the cure. That’s exactly what I did. I walked you right in there with me.”_ Jemma’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, and she brought a shaky palm to her mouth to stifle her sob. 

“Son of a _**bitch**_.” Jemma had almost forgotten Trip was beside her, and she cast aside her fear for a brief moment to consider what Trip must be feeling. Garrett was his supervising officer. His _mentor_ for God’s sakes. He grit his teeth, muttering, “That _lying_ ** _bastard_** ,” several times before he was overcome with his _own_ emotion. Jemma laid a soothing hand on his shoulder, but he only flinched from the touch, and she quickly withdrew her hand. 

Agent Hand acted fast, sending armed men in hot pursuit of Garrett. She could only hope they’d-

And then Garrett had the nerve to laugh. To _laugh._ It was nervous, _cowardly_ laughter, of course, but for him to- _“Phil, look. It’s been a rough day. I-I get it. But you need to take a second and...”_ _Coward._ That was the _best_ he-

And then a troubling, _horrifying_ thought struck her. It had been there for a bit. In the back of her mind. It wasn’t a new thought. But it terrified her. It _paralyzed_ her. 

 _ **Fitz**_ was currently in the surveillance room with the _Clairvoyant_. The man who was responsible for shooting Skye. She _had_ to get to Fitz. She _had t-_

_“Damn it.”_

_“Freeze! Don’t move! Hands where we can see them!” There._ Hand’s men. _Surely_ , their number would overpower Garrett, and he would be brought into custody, and _Fi-_  her team would be safe. 

_“Easy, fellas.”_

_“Take Agent Garrett into custody. He’s the murderer they call the Clairvoyant. He’s a_ traitor.” 

 _“Gentlemen,”_ Garrett’s voice was calm. _Eerily_ so.  _“I know Agent Sitwell was in charge of filling your ranks, so at least a few of you know what to do in this situation.” Oh no_. She _desperately_ nee- _“Anytime, boys.”_ Shots rang out, startling her, and now _she_ was the one flinching away from Trip as he held firmly onto her wrist, predicting what she wanted to do before she even had a chance to even process the plan herself.

 _“Hail Hydra.” No_. She _had_ to get to -

 _“Hail Hydra!”_ The agents’ battle cry was lost on her ringing ears. She _**had** _ to get to **-**

Trip gritted his teeth, and the hold on her wrist grew tighter. “Stand _down_ , Agent Simmons.”

Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and her body shook with little sobs. She wasn’t thinking clearly and a part of her knew Trip was right. She couldn’t risk endangering _Fit_ \- her team - more with reckless, hasty action. She’d never be able to forgive herself. She gave a slight nod to Trip, and when it appeared he was convinced she wouldn’t do anything foolish, he let go of her wrist. 

 _“Those three men in your unit- I guess they asked the wrong questions.”_ _Coulson_. If Coulson was still alive, then maybe-

_“Until today, it was all about keeping the secret.”_

_“Are you going to kill us?”_ **_Fitz._** She could barely hear his voice over the deafening sound of her beating heart. **_Fitz._**

 _“That wasn’t my plan, really. If it was, I could’ve done that anytime I wanted. No. Coulson and I go way back. Back to the days when Fury was teaching us tactics. Clearing corners. Slicing the pie. Remember, Phil?”_ Jemma was powerless. She wanted _Fitz_ \- her team - away from this man and could only listen to his evil sneers and stupid diatribes without doing any damn thing about it. 

 _“Fury would bury you for this.”_ An overwhelming amount of sadness and despair filled Jemma when she remembered what Hand had told Trip and her earlier. _Crossed off. Director Fury included._

 _“Probably. Instead, he’ll just have to roll over in his grave. He must’ve uncovered our secret. Top brass did what they had to do. Explains why we’ve suddenly come ‘out of the shadows’. Not a minor inconvenience, I might add.”_ The more Garrett spoke, the more physically disgusted she was with the wretched excuse of a man. 

 _“Top_ brass _?”_ May’s voice had a slight tinge of panic and disbelief to it. And it was incredibly upsetting to hear the unshakable, unmovable, unwavering Calvary in said state. 

_“Oh, my. Yes. Tip-top. We had a good thing going, too. Waving the S.H.I.E.L.D. flag as hard as we could. I guess we’ll be changing colors, now.”_

_“For_ Hydra _? You really_ believe _all that crap? Spreading death and destruction?”_

 _“I wouldn’t say I’m a_ true _believer. Let’s just say I felt the wind changing direction and swung my sail. You really should, too.”_

_“I would die before serving Hydra, you sick son of a bitch.”_

_“I hate to tell you, but- you’ve been serving Hydra all along. I guess death is the only alternative. It’s a sad thing; I consider you a friend. I was happy when I’d heard you made it through.”_ What a horrendous thought to consider. How many agents had _she_ served over the years that were actually... _ **Hydra**_? 

_“So happy you had me tortured for three days to find out how they did it.”_

She was so absorbed in her debilitating fear, that she almost didn’t catch Hand give out orders to the (recently downsized) armed men. 

 _“I didn’t enjoy that. Phil, th- this is me being_ honest _.”_

 _“_ No _, John. This is you being a_ psychopath _.”_

 _“I know_ you’d _follow him to the grave, so...”_ She was desperate to know who he was talking to, and what that... _entailed_. And then her heart stopped. It just -it just stopped. **Because.** _“As for you, Agent Fitz, you’ll hold a very high rank on our tech division if you volunteer.”_ She _knew._ Knew deep down in her bones that Fitz would _never-_ and she suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. She shrugged away from Trip’s placating touch for the second time and listened. Because that was the _only_ thing she _could_ do.  _Just._ _**fucking.** listen_.  _“If not, you’ll have no rank and a lot of pain. Of course, either way, your services will be_ required _.”_ For the twenty-seventh time in the span of a few minutes, she wanted to _scream._ **_Clairvoyant or no, if you lay one hand on-_**

 _“You’re going to suffer for what you’ve done. And I- I plan on being a very big part of that.”_ **_Fitz._** She heard sniffling and knew that Fitz’s tears matched her own, but his tone was _firm_ and unwavering. And she was flooded with affection and pride for her friend - for this _man._ For he _was_ a man now, wasn’t he? When they met, they were just kids, really, and- why the _hell_ was she thinking about this _now_? **Fitz _. She had to get to- She couldn’t bear it if- She wouldn’t- she couldn’t- she_ needed _\- Fitz._**

 _“I like you, kid.” He’s not a_ fucking _kid, you **worthless** piece of- “Alright. Let them have it. But shoot that one in the kneecaps.”_ **_NO._**

A bomb went off elsewhere and the sounds of _**chaos**  _reverberated through Jemma’s body _._ **Deadly** _chaos._ And _gunshots._ _One. Two, three._ **Three.** _ **Three** _ gunshots. **_Three. Three. Three._**

**_She had to get to Fitz. Had to get to Fitz._ Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. **

When she thought Trip was distracted from the noise, she fled his side and sprinted towards Hand, already moving quickly towards the entrance of the surveillance room. 

 _“Coulson!”_ **_Fitz._ ** Her momentary panic lifted just a bit as Jemma reveled in the notion of Fitz being **alive.** And then the relief turned to determination. **_She had to get to Fitz. She had to get to Fitz. She had-_**

The moment the door to the surveillance room was open, she scanned the room at warped speed, until she saw _him_. She stopped listening then. She didn’t know what the other agents shouted when they busted in the room. She didn’t know what Coulson said or what Hand said back. She stopped listening. She stopped listening and started running. And didn’t stop until she landed in Fitz’s arms. She was content to stay in his embrace, and he held her firmly against him. 

Jemma focused on Fitz’s breathing and Fitz’s heartbeat - both sounds confirming _**life**_. Both sounds confirming that they were _together_ again. Both sounds confirming that though S.H.I.E.L.D. was shattered to its core, though things seemed incredibly, abhorrently bleak, they would have each other _._ And those two sounds were the only ones Jemma needed to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that Hand insisted to Coulson that they heard everything tells me that Jemma must’ve undergone some sort of torture listening to Garrett’s reveal and Fitz (and the rest) in danger and not able to do a thing about it as she had to follow orders. So as I wrote, I became fascinated with Jemma’s inner thoughts/reactions to what she could only hear. I’m assuming Hand and Co. couldn’t see them (Hand specifically said “heard”, and the team/Garrett was occupying the surveillance room, so...?), so that bit of unknown would’ve been incredibly hard for Jemma to stomach. Just sounds. Just spoken words. Just thumps and gunshots. No wonder she ran to Fitz so quickly.


	18. It's Times Like These

Jemma sat down next to a relieved Skye ending the call on her cell phone. 

“So Ward’s okay, then?” 

Skye nodded with a small smile. “He’s fine. He’ll be joining us soon. I’m - I’m kind of going crazy that he isn’t here with us right now.”

“I know what you mean. I don’t like having our team strewn apart. When the Hub was taken over, all I could think about was getting back to you guys.”

Skye chuckled softly. “You know- Fitz. He - um- he kind of went _nuts_ about getting you back here. Kept going on and on about saving you and making sure any tactical moves we made didn’t impede your safety.”

Jemma was touched, and her cheeks grew warm. “ _Well_. That’s um- that’s-”

“Ward and I kissed.”

 _Okay._ She wasn’t _quite_ expecting the turn in conversation. She looked at Skye expectantly. 

Laughter bubbled out of Skye. “I _know_. Such a random thing to throw in there, but it was _killing_ me to not say anything about it. I- I _didn’t-_ because- like. Shit’s getting real with Hydra and all, but...um- _yeah_.”

Jemma grinned, shaking her head. “Well, alright then. Was it - um- was it good?”

Jemma didn’t think she could get used to the current dreamy expression Skye wore. “The _best_.”

“Well, there’s no doubt in my mind that you two won’t end up together. Fitz and I have been gossiping about this for months, I’m ashamed to say.” Skye opened her mouth to say something in protest. “Oh. Come off it, Skye. You know I’m happy for you.”

Skye gave her a warm smile. “Thanks, Jemma.” She sighed happily. “So. How are you doing? That Agent Triplett is pretty easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” She waggled her eyebrows playfully. 

Jemma cursed her cheeks for growing warm a second time. “I- I suppose so. And he’s a very good man. And incredibly nice. The only problem with him is- _well_...”

Skye scoffed. “Agent Perfect has a flaw? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, it’s not exactly _him_. It’s more- well. _Fitz.”_

It appeared Jemma had Skye’s full attention after that. “Okay, Simmons. This is getting good.”

Jemma wrung her hands. “Fitz just - it _seems_ like he can’t stand Agent Triplett, and I just can’t place why. There’s always this _tension_ when I’m with the two of them.”

Jemma did _not_ appreciate Skye’s wry smile and disbelieving look. “You _really_ can’t place why? You serious?”

Jemma’s eyes narrowed defensively. “Oh. And I bet _you_ can, then?” 

Skye shook her head softly. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I can, Jemma.” For some reason, Jemma grew increasingly irritated at Skye’s knowing smile. She was almost - dare she say - _jealous_ that Skye claimed to know something about Fitz that she didn’t. 

“Well, come on, then. Out with it.” 

Skye’s teasing smile grew into an affectionate one. “If you don’t know by now, then I’m _definitely_ not going to be the one to tell you.” 

Jemma threw her hands up in the air. “Fine. _Whatever_. Thanks for the intel, Agent Skye.” She stood up then and hastily walked away from Skye.

“Jemma.” She turned around to find a meaningful look crossing Skye’s features. “Just. Go _easy_ on Fitz, okay? Trust me on this.”

Jemma softened at the look. “I do wish you would tell me, Skye.” 

“I know. And as much as I like gossip, it’s _killing_ me to abstain from this one. But, seriously. Just- you know. _Talk_ to Fitz.”

“Are you implying that we have poor communication, Skye?”

“No- that’s-”

“Because I’ll have you know that we have become _very_ in tune to each other without even having to say a word.” Jemma crossed her arms.

“ _Okay_. But this is one conversation where you might need to actually - _you know -_ speak to each other. And no science-y stuff, either.” 

Jemma shrugged. “If he has something he needs to say to me, then he can say it himself. He knows he can tell me anything in the world.” She returned to plop down next to Skye again.

Skye nudged Jemma softly and gave her another one of those _damn_ looks. “Yeah, but- _this_ thing might be a bit more difficult to tell.” 


	19. Why Don't You Tell Her the Truth?

_“Well, what is it, then?”_

-

_Scenario 1:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“It’s not him,” Fitz repeated.

Jemma started to look a bit exasperated. “Yes, caught that. What is it, then?”

“It’s not h-”

“I swear, Leopold Fitz, if you say-”

“It’s _you_.” Jemma’s eyes narrowed into dangerous little slits, and she stormed away from him before he had a chance to explain.

-

_Scenario 2:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him.

“You know. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not say,” Fitz muttered, stubbornly.

Jemma fixed him a hard look, and Fitz could detect hurt in her voice. “I never thought _you_ \- of all people - would keep something from me. We tell each other _everything_ , Fitz.”   

“Well, you said it yourself. Things have changed. So we might as well get used to our relationship being one of the things that have.” Fitz didn’t mean to sound unfeeling, but if this was the way to keep her off his scent, then he was going to ( _cowardly_ ) take it. 

“Yes,” Jemma said wistfully. “I suppose they have.” And with that, he was left alone again, relieved that he was saved from revealing to her their relationship’s _biggest_ change.

-

_Scenario 3:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I’m just- I’m _jealous_.” Fitz didn’t even dare look at Jemma. He _couldn’t_. 

“That’s preposterous. What could you possibly be _jealous_ of him for? You’re Agent Fitz. Graduated S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy with the second highest ranking in marks. Saved lives - including my own - countless times. What does Agent Triplett have on _you_ , Fitz?”

Fitz saw relief from explaining the _actual_ reason and took the exit from the conversation- like a _coward_.

“You know- it’s silly. I can’t even remember now. Just wish I had more tactical experience is all. But Trip’s a nice chap, yeah? I promise to be more civil with him in the future.” 

Fitz hoped his smile was convincing as Jemma raised her eyebrow at him once more. “Okay. Well if that’s all then...” 

Trailing off, she left him alone with his thoughts.

-

_Scenario 4:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I just- I think you and Agent Triplett need to think a bit more clearly about our crisis at hand. And stop trying to play footsie under the holo-table.”

Jemma gave him a hard look. “ _This_ again? First Mike Peterson and now Trip? Why are you getting so _twitchy_ about whom I choose or not choose to date? You were never this vocal about it before we joined Coulson’s team.”

Fitz cleared his throat and met her challenging gaze with his own. “ _Hey_. I’m just trying to show concern for my best friend. We also avoided quite a lot of life-threatening scenarios before joining Coulson’s team-”

“ _Some_ best friend. You know. I don’t really know if that’s what we are anymore, Leo.”

Fitz felt like she had slapped him. He didn’t even try to convince her otherwise as she stomped off.

-

_Scenario 5:_

“Well, what is it then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I think- well. I think Trip has feelings for you.”

“ _Feelings_ for me? Why, that’s just-”

Fitz cut her off, feeling braver by the minute. “Yeah, and that just doesn’t work for me, because I-”

“Even if he _did_ have feelings for me, I assure you that I’m in no place for _that_ with _anyone_ right now.”

“I- what?” 

Jemma sighed exasperated. “ _Fitz._ S.H.I.E.L.D. is in shambles, Hydra is back, we’re currently residing in a secret base, I mean, _honestly_. A person would be _mad_ to pursue anything with me right now.”

Fitz chuckled, masking his hurt. “Right. Well. That’s- that’s what I was thinking too. That’s a relief, then.”

Jemma rolled her eyes affectionately. “Someday, you’re going to have stop looking out for me.” 

As Fitz watched her go, he knew deep down in his soul that that was never going to happen.

-

_Scenario 6:_

“Well, what is it then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I think- well. I think Trip has feelings for you.”

“ _Feelings_ for me? Why, that’s just-”

Fitz cut her off, feeling braver by the minute. “Yeah, and that just doesn’t work for me, because there’s a slight chance that I’m in love with you.” 

Jemma stared at him, mouth agape. Fitz felt small under her intense gaze, wishing the damn plane (flown by Mr. Wonderful) would just eject him from it. 

He confidently flashed her a grin. “Just joking.” 

Jemma blew out a breath of relief ( _ouch). “Phew._ Fitz, you scared me for a moment there.” She chuckled thinly.

“You should’ve seen your face.” 

“Yeah, well it was a shocking thing to hear. You know, you distracted me from what I really came down here to say. I’ll come find you again when I think of it.”

Fitz thought she walked away from him a _bit_ too quickly.

-

_Scenario 7:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I think- well. I think Trip has feelings for you.”

“ _Feelings_ for me? Why, that’s just-”

Fitz cut her off, feeling braver by the minute. “Yeah, and that just doesn’t work for me, because there’s a slight chance that I’m in love with you.”

Jemma stared at him, mouth agape. Fitz felt small under her intense gaze, wishing the damn plane (flown by Mr. Wonderful) would just eject him from it. 

Fitz was surprised to see anger flash across her features. 

“And just what do you expect me to do with this information then?”

“I didn’t- I _don’t-”_

 _“Honestly_ , Fitz. Why would you say this to me? _Now?_ ” 

“Look, we can just drop it, yeah? Forget I said anyth-”

“I can’t just _drop it_ , Fitz. Thanks to you, our relationship will _never_ be the same again!”

And then Fitz simply watched her walk away.

-

_Scenario 8:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I think- well. I think Trip has feelings for you.”

“ _Feelings_ for me? Why, that’s just-”

Fitz cut her off, feeling braver by the minute. “Yeah, and that just doesn’t work for me, because there’s a slight chance that I’m in love with you.”

Jemma stared at him, mouth agape. Fitz felt small under her intense gaze, wishing the damn plane (flown by Mr. Wonderful) would just eject him from it. 

“You’re in - _in -_ with _me_?” Fitz’s heart sank when he realized that Jemma didn’t look happy to hear his confession. She looked _panicked_. 

“Yeah. Um- _yeah_. Um- I _think_ so? You know, let’s just forget the whole-”

And to his absolute horror, Jemma started _crying_. “It’s not - that- that I - you’re my best friend in the world, Fitz. And now I feel like- _like_ \- I don’t _know_ what do with this, Fitz. You understand that, right?”

Fitz’s eyes filled up with tears and his face felt hot, and he really, _really_ hated being betrayed by his own _damn_ body. “Just- just forget it, Jemma. Forget I said anything. The last thing I wanted to do was put you in an awkward situation. You asked me about Trip, and I wanted to be forthright with you. I didn’t want to affect our relationship by being dishonest.”

“Don’t you _see_ , Fitz? You just did.” Jemma wiped her eyes and left him with bits of his heart in his hands. 

-

_Scenario 9:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I think- well. I think Trip has feelings for you.”

“ _Feelings_ for me? Why, that’s just-”

Fitz cut her off, feeling braver by the minute. “Yeah, and that just doesn’t work for me, because there’s a slight chance that I’m in love with you.”

Jemma stared at him, mouth agape. Fitz felt small under her intense gaze, wishing the damn plane (flown by Mr. Wonderful) would just eject him from it.

And to his absolute horror, Jemma started _crying_. “It’s not - that- that I - you’re my best friend in the world, Fitz. And now I feel like- _like_ \- I don’t _know_ what do with this, Fitz. You understand that, right?”

Fitz’s eyes filled up with tears and his face felt hot, and he really, _really_ hated being betrayed by his own _damn_ body. “Yeah,” Fitz said softly. “I just - you deserved to know. And I couldn’t find the courage to tell you until now. Look, you asked me about Trip, and I wanted to be forthright with you. I didn’t want to affect our relationship by being dishonest.”

“Don’t you _see_ , Fitz? You just did,” Jemma wiped her eyes.

“But _why_ does it have to change? I’m still your best friend, right? Just your best friend who happens to have feelings for you. I’ll get over it- especially when you and Trip start dating - and we’ll look back on this bit, and laugh our asses off.” Fitz started to grow increasingly worried when Jemma wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Jemma?”

And then Jemma twisted the knife already piercing his heart. “I just- _Fitz._ I’ve never seen you that way. And I don’t think I ever will. I’m terribly sorry I don’t return your feelings. And I don’t know how our relationship will recover after this.” 

She hurriedly ran away from him, sobbing, leaving him with bits of his heart in his hands. 

-

_Scenario 10:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

“I think- well. I think Trip has feelings for you.”

“ _Feelings_ for me? Why, that’s just-”

Fitz cut her off, feeling braver by the minute. “Yeah, and that just doesn’t work for me, because there’s a slight chance that I’m in love with you.”

Jemma stared at him, mouth agape. Fitz felt small under her intense gaze, wishing the damn plane (flown by Mr. Wonderful) would just eject him from it.

Jemma at down in the seat next to him, and he watched her buckle herself in, taking great care with each painstakingly slow step. The air between them buzzed with electricity and spoken confessions, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her performing the mundane tasks. When she was properly buckled, she met his eyes again. Trembling, she brought a hand to his cheek, and Fitz could hardly grasp what was about to happen, his eyes drawn to her lips. She tenderly drew his face to her own and closed her eyes and captured his top lip between hers. Not missing a beat, he kissed her back, intertwining her unoccupied hand with his. 

After a few blissful moments, she gently drew back and rested her forehead on his. 

“There’s a slight chance that I’m in love with you, too,” Jemma whispered.

-

_“Well, what what is it, then?”_

Of all the ten scenarios that played in his mind at her question, only one of them proved to result in a favorable outcome. He didn’t like those odds. And so. 

-

_Reality:_

“Well, what is it, then?” 

Fitz stared at her a long while, feeling slightly backed into a corner, given his belted-in sitting situation as opposed to her standing, almost hovering over him. 

Fitz gave her a self-deprecating smile. “You know how I can be. I hate change.”

-

Fitz _was_ a numbers guy after all.  


	20. Just Assumed We'd Be Better at Spotting It

“Fitzsimmons?”

“Fitz.”

“Simmons.”

Jemma stood across from Fitz, introducing her best friend in front of - **_Ward was Hydra._**

_-_

There they were. Figuring out the puzzle together. Handcuffed in the loading dock and _**Ward was Hydra**_. 

-

The team sent in Coulson and Ward to face off Ian Quinn, someone found out to be associated with Cybertek and- and it was ironic now, because  ** _Ward was Hydra._**

-

Akila Amador was being controlled, and FitzSimmons performed their first successful joint surgery, implementing both their areas of expertise and **_Ward was Hydra._**

-

 Jemma couldn’t believe she even felt _sorry_ for him when they found Skye and her old boyfriend post coitus, because _**Ward was Hydra**_. 

-

The man _**fucking** _ saved her life. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. She wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t. And she started to fall for “the whole James Bond in mid-air type of thing” and  ** _Ward was Hydra._**

-

She was worried for both of their men. Fitz was alone with him. She was worried and incredibly happy when they both returned, and _Oh, God_ Fitz was _alone_ for a number of days with- and **_Ward was Hydra._**

-

His anger. His _wrath_. Maybe he _did_ mean all those things, because _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

“She’s using her British-ness against us.”

 _Oh._ She’ll use _more_ than her _British-ness_ , mangy, _soulless,_ absolute _**wanker**_. Because this wasn’t a game and _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

Coulson was taken and Ward was behind it, because _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

“Look, this isn’t personal, but I am taking my team, and we’re gonna find Coulson.”

He had _no_ right to call them that. _**None**_. They were _not_ his **fucking** team. And they never were, because _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

Ward suggesting Fitz get to know Donnie was probably his deplorable plan for FItz to unknowingly assist Donnie, because they were both in bed with Ian Quinn - as it were - and _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

Ian Quinn shot Skye. _He shot her._ He shot her, and Ward was to blame, and he can take his _concern_ and _feelings_ and _worry_ and shove it up his stupid _ass_ , because _**Ward was Hydra**_. 

-

All for the _fucking_ GH-235. He gambled Skye’s life for the mysterious drug. And why wouldn’t he? Because that _vile_ , _disgusting, revolting_ creature _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

And here she thought Ward turned on them unintentionally just as _Fitz_ , and to _think_ she even admired the despicable _prick_ at _all_ was stomach-churning, because _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

And of course Ward killed that man. Probably a poor, incapacitated victim. A patsy. He shot the man with no remorse on the false pretense of _avenging_ Skye, and _give me a **fucking** break- **Ward was Hydra**. _

_-_

_Oh._ And she felt _pity_. She felt _pity_ and _compassion_ for the wretched man, not imagining what it was like to find out your supervising officer was- _was_ \- he deserved _none_ , because she was an admiring, infatuated idiot, and _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

And they told him _everything_. They might as well have fucking sent a horse-drawn carriage to take Ward to the _**secret** _ base. They were bumbling halfwits- the lot of them, because _**Ward was Hydra**_.

-

And as they were saving the cellist from the darkness, Skye was dealing with even _darker_ , because _**Ward was Hydra**_. 

-

Once he had calmed down a bit more, Fitz had shown her, slamming open the door and roughly gesturing to Skye’s message on the inventive window. The message that revealed to Fitz what finding Agent Koenig’s body had revealed to Jemma: _**Ward was Hydra**_. 

-

Jemma felt exposed. _Violated_. Like Ward had taken thousands of pictures of her with her knickers off and then used those pictures to kill innocent people. The enemy was hiding in plain sight. He was hiding in plain sight, and she felt _sick_. Her feet were in the motel pool and her heart was filled with lead and _anger_ and weariness from the world’s wickedness and-

Fitz lightly, playfully kicked water her way, and when Jemma turned to him, she was met with a small smile, and _**Ward was Hydra**_ , but _**Fitz was not Hydra**_ , and she tucked away that small bit of peace and smiled right back. 


	21. Next to You, of Course

And then Fitz witnessed something he had hoped he would never be exposed to again: Jemma plummeting from the sky. Only this time, he was falling right along with her. Her eyes held horror, and she was screaming, and he was screaming, and she grabbed his hand, her nails breaking into his skin which he didn’t feel **because** _._

His brain kicked into full gear right when Jemma was knocked out from being hurled into the pod wall. 

“ _No!_ No, Jemma!” He grabbed her and took a brief second to scan his surroundings. They were still falling, and they were going to _die_ if he didn’t act quick. Holding Jemma with one arm, he managed to maneuver them to a baseboard and strapped them in - moments before the pod crashed on the ocean’s surface. 

He felt a searing pain shoot through his arm but ignored it because _Jemma_. She was still not moving, and he tilted his head close to her face, exhaling with relief when he heard her breathing. He checked for a pulse, placing two fingers on her neck, and _Jemma was alive_. 

The continued movement of the pod broke him out of his elated reverie. _Hang on. Continued_ movement? With a sickening realization, he knew that the pod did not in fact stop falling once they hit the surface. It was slowly sinking. To the bottom of the ocean. **_No._**

He fiddled with Trip’s homing beacon, trying in vain to send out a distress signal, but it was no use. S.H.I.E.L.D. was disbanded - it didn’t exist - and no one was listening. 

He wasn’t going to give up though. He _couldn’t_ give up. He would find a way for Jemma to survive. She _had_ to. Of that, he was sure. 

For it was not use denying now. He was doing a sorry job of hiding his feelings from himself anyway.

He _**loved** _ her. In any way possible. He **_loved_ ** her and was _**in love**_ with her and he had no idea why he was so insistent on fighting that inconvenient truth. He was now face-to-face with certain death, and oddly, there was a lightness to that. The weight of his secret was bubbling to the surface, and the pod was most assuredly falling _away_ from the surface, and he chuckled in spite of himself. He _**loved**_ her. And recalling all those years side-by-side only increased his affection for her.

Because they were acquaintances and then lab partners and then friends and then best friends and then she became someone he couldn’t possibly imagine life without. The facts laid out bare before him were so simple, and he was a ripe _tosser_ for disputing them.

Because he _**loved**  _her. No _maybes_ , no _slight chances_ , no _possibly’s_ , no _I think so’s_ , just honest, true, unquestionable, without-a-doubt _**love**_. 

_Thud._ The pod landed roughly on the ocean floor, and he estimated that it had descended at least ninety feet. Which meant _they_ were at least ninety feet below the water’s surface. In a contained module. With no way out. Their rations were almost non-existent. He wracked his brain, trying to conjure something. _Anything._ But it was no use. They were going to _die_. 

He was struck by Jemma’s beauty as she slept, unaware of the dire situation at hand. He thought about waking her, but _no_. _Let her sleep. Let her_ _**dream**_. Let her dream about the beauty still in the world and the goodness still in the world and the peace still in the world. _Just let her..._

He figured he ought to tend to his broken arm and other injuries while she continued to dream. He gingerly unstrapped them from the board and made a makeshift sling for his arm. She didn’t stir. Still beautiful. Still peaceful. Still _everything_. 

Why was he so _damn_ afraid of allowing himself to be enraptured by his _**love**_ for her? They were going to die. He knew that with certainty. And he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of her never again making brilliant scientific discoveries. He mourned for the Nobel Peace Prize she wouldn’t receive which was undoubtedly something that would’ve happened if things were different. She wasn’t going to have the chance to settle down and start a family (although he guiltily kept picturing no one but him by her side when she was ready for _that_ ). He was heartbroken that Jemma Simmons was leaving the world too early and taking her _everything_ with her. 

But he couldn’t mourn for himself. Not really. Sure. Given the choice between life or death, he’d choose life. He wasn’t _mental_. But he was making peace with his mortality. And for him to face death with the woman he _**loved**_ \- with _Jemma_ \- well. There were worse ways to go now, weren’t there? 

 


	22. So Please. Let Me Show You

Chapter 22: So Please. Let Me Show You

_Day 1:_

There was water, and there was great energy exerted, and there was a big noise and a scream (her own), and there was no thought. Just one word. One word that ignited her bones and became her mantra and pushed her and broke her and pushed her once more. _Fitz_.

She had to - _had_ to - for Fitz. Failure wasn’t an option. She summoned the strength she didn’t fully recognize as her own and swam the both of them to the surface. They were a pair. The two. She’d be _damned_ if anything else were true. 

-

 _Alive_. Fitz was alive. The moment she was released from the hyperbaric chamber, she became the _worst_ patient in the world, because her _mantra_ was reverberating through her body and soul, and she had to see _Fitz_.

He was her _person_. Her soulmate. The one she couldn’t possibly live without. She _needed_ him. _Surely, they were done with her tests, right?_ She hastily ripped off her IV, amid the protests of the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors and rushed to Fitz’s side. 

 _Nothing_. 

He wasn’t moving. Not even one finger. Not even an eyelash. He wasn’t moving, but _she_ was moving agents out of the way to be at his side. It was the only place she knew with utmost certainty that she felt most at home. 

-

_Day 2:_

**_Nothing._ **

-

_Day 3:_

“Jemma, come on. You have to take care of yourself. Eat something.” She wordlessly took the crackers from - well. She wasn’t really sure who was sitting next to her just then. They had all been round to see him - Coulson, May, Skye, Trip. Well, now that wasn’t exactly true, was it? _Ward_ should’ve been there to see him. Instead of - _Instead._ ** _Instead._**

She didn’t realize how severe of a grip she had of those _damn_ crackers until she felt the remnants of them in her hand and heard the exasperated sigh from Agent- well...Agent _Somebody_. She wiped the crumbs on her pants and reclaimed Fitz’s hand with her newly freed ones.

-

_Day 4:_

“Agent Simmons. It is _imperative_ that you return to your own corridor, now.”

Jemma’s eyes fluttered open to reveal Fitz’s face in her immediate line of sight. The crick in her neck and ache in her back confirmed that she had fallen asleep half on top of Fitz’s cot. She ignored the other voice and studied Fitz’s face for signs of change. No movement. No change. _**Nothing**_. 

“Agent Simmons.” The voice sounded exasperated now, but Jemma refused to move or even acknowledge the speaker, pleasantries and manners and laws of courtesy be damned.

“I’m _not_ leaving him.” 

-

_Day 5:_

_**Nothing**_. No movement. Not even a damn finger or stupid eyelash. _Nothing_.

-

_Day 6:_

_“You’re my best friend in the world!”  
_

_“Yeah, and you’re more than that, Jemma.”  
_

_More than that, Jemma. More than that, Jemma. More than that, Jemma. More than that. Jemma. More._

_More._

_More._

Where did he get _off_ saying those things? They were best friends and partners and - _and -_

_More than that. More. More._

_More._

_“And I couldn’t find the courage to tell you...”_

Where did he get off with the whole sacrificing-his-life for hers because of _what_ \- his _love_ for her? Because up until now, he’s been simply _Fitz_ , and _now_ he’s - _he’s -_

He’s. not. moving. He’s not moving. _He’s not moving._ _ **He’s not moving.**_  

-

_Day 7:_

“He has to pull through, right?” Apparently, Skye had been sitting with her for a while. 

Silent tears trailed Jemma’s cheeks, She didn’t know when she had started crying. She didn’t know the beginnings and the endings of most things, lately. Her voice was rough from disuse, and her voice was teary, and her voice was filled with fear, and her voice was filled with affection as she spoke.

“He’s the strongest man I know.”

-

_Day 8:_

_“Yeah, and you’re more than that, Jemma.” More than that, Jemma. More than - More. More._

_**More.** _

_More. More. More._ **Move.**

**Move** , damn it. Move, you Scottish grump. Just a little finger, Fitz. Just a small flutter of an eyelash, Fitz. Move. 

_**Move.** _

_Move. Move. Move._ **More.**

**_More._ **

_More than that, Jemma._

_-_

_Day 9:_

Jemma’s heart was in her throat, and her throat was raw, and there were tears pooling in her eyes, and she was gripping his hand fiercely, and laughter was threatening to rise to the surface, because _he was_ **awake** _._ But as elated as she was, she was also so, so heartbroken. 

Because the man before her whom she possibly - _possibly_ \- well. He couldn’t speak. Wasn’t muttering on and on about monkeys or hunger or - _he_ **couldn’t**. His eyes bore an expression of extreme confusion, and at first sight, she was terrified he didn’t recognize her.

But he did. _Oh, he did._ His eyes were screaming at her - demanding to know what was happening. But behind the demands, his eyes held a muted affection. Towards her. And _how_ \- why had she not seen it before? 

“Hi, Fitz,” she started softly, sniffling a bit. “I’m - well. You’ve - you’ve been in a coma for nine days.” _There. Start with the facts._ He would want to know the bare-bone facts first. “And I’m just - I thought we were _dead_ , Fitz. I thought we were _dead_ \- and - and - and we’re not - and _you’re_ not - and _oh, Fitz.”_ She cried openly now, gripping his hand tighter as he continued to simply stare.

_More than that. More than that. More. More._

_No._ There would be time to dwell on that later. Right now, she just needed to be there for Fitz. They would be okay. _Okay_ wasn’t something Jemma _ever_ sought after, but here in this medical room, with Fitz awake and fluttering those _bloody_ eyelashes, it was _enough_.

-

_Day 87:_

“Sir, may I have a moment?”

Coulson looked up to find Jemma standing in the doorway of his office. He motioned for her to close the door. “What’s on your mind, Jemma?” 

Jemma’s eyes were red from many sleepless nights, and her heart was slowly being spliced from frustrated words and thinking of _the right thing to do_ , and she almost turned around, wanting to call the whole thing off. 

How was she to function - _m-make it_ \- without her Fitz? But _no_. She would manage. It was what needed to happen. And so.

“I’d like to be transferred to another base. Permanently.” 

To say Coulson looked shocked was a severe understatement, but she gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into her palms and stood her ground.

“Is there any particular reason you -”

“Working for you and _with_ you and with this team has been a pleasure and an honor, sir,” Jemma broke in with a teary voice. “I cannot begin to express how much being on this team has -”

“Slow down, Agent Simmons. Just try and help me understand wh-”

“It’s _Fitz_ , sir,” Jemma cut in, brokenly. She gasped, trying to muffle a sudden sob with her hand. 

To Coulson’s credit, he didn’t try to soothe her or crush her into an embrace; he simply laid a supportive hand on her arm, squeezing once, empathetically. And it was enough. 

“I watch him, you know,” Jemma smiled grimly. “I’ve seen him interact with Skye and Trip and May and _you_ , and I can _see_ it, sir. I can _see_ little pockets of healing. Pockets that I _never_ see when he’s with me. Sir, it is my professional opinion that I...” Jemma met Coulson’s eyes then, pleading. _Begging_ for him to understand. “I make him _worse_ , sir.”

Jemma was tired. She was tired and heart-broken and tired and angry and tired and frustrated and tired and lonely and tired and sad and tired and - _and -_

“I make him worse, so the best course of action - in this particular circumstance - is for me to remove myself from the equation.”

Coulson was silent for several moments that felt exponentially longer. He gave her a small, sad, reassuring smile. 

“I understand. But request for transfer denied, Agent Simmons.”

“But, _sir_ -”

“I have another idea.”

-

_Day 88:_

And so she left. She left Fitz and the _more than_ and the confusion and the _love_ \- but _no._ That last bit wasn’t true. Her heart was torn in so many different ways. Torn from lying to her team - to _him_ \- and leaving her little family - for that’s what they were now, right? Torn from convincing herself she was doing _the right thing_. Torn from leaving _him_. 

But it wasn’t - rather, her allegiance wasn’t - _oh, bloody hell_. She almost _lost_ him. She did. And it terrified her to her core what that meant. Because almost losing him - she almost _lost_ him. It would be selfish to consider anything else. She almost lost him, and he was alive, and healing in brief glimpses without her and her feelings - her affections - they didn’t matter. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, after all. A spy. And spies simply didn’t fall in love. And neither did - neither did - _neither did_ - 

She left the Playground and settled into her new life undercover. She left the Playground and changed her look, hoping alterations to her physical appearance might rejuvenate her. She should’ve known better. For she left the Playground and left her heart there as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nine of the longest days of my life."


	23. All I Can Hear Is You

_Cloaking._ That’s what he needed to - the team needed him. And Jemma was - well. The _team_. They were counting on - on. They were -

“You know your schematics are all wrong, don’t you, Fitz?” 

_Jemma_. Fitz spun around to find her looking prim as ever with her hair in a neat ponytail, her dainty earrings, her smart clothes. All of it. _Jemma._

“When did - when did you...?” He cursed himself for being unable to articulate the question clearly. Surely, his damn brain owed him a _bit_ of peace - just this _once_ \- for their - 

“Get back from Sheffield? Oh, Fitz. I’ve been back for _ages_. Have you really not noticed?” 

Fitz scoffed with a small, humorless smile. “Pret- pretty sure I would - I would have - well. Doesn’t matter.”

Jemma crossed her arms sternly. “Well it most certainly _does_ matter, but we’ll discuss that later. Let’s talk about the cloaking. How’s it coming?”

Fitz slammed his fist on the table. “Why does _everyone_ keep - keep. It’ll be done when it’ll be done. And I’ll _thank_ you to stop - stop...” Fitz started to snap his fingers in a vain attempt to formulate what he wanted to say. 

“Pestering you?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Fitz. We’re not _pestering_ you. We’re just so eager for the finished product. Surely, you understand.” 

“Yes, well. That’s - that’s...”

“Fitz?” FitzSimmons turned to find Coulson in the doorway of the lab. He wore a strange look, and his eyes darted back and forth to him and Jemma. “Who are you talking to?”

Fitz chuckled with little mirth. “Very funny, sir. Pulling a prank on...” He glanced to Jemma and was struck with an intense feeling of loss. Because when he looked to his side where he last saw her, he was met with a deafening nothingness. _She’s not here. She never was._

Fitz let out a long sigh, willing himself not to cry. “No one, sir.”

“Okay, then. How’s the cloaking coming along?”

“It’s - it’s - I’m almost there.” Jemma was still gone, and the cloaking was still not done, and he was still damaged, it was still just all too _fucking_ much. 

In a detached, quiet voice, Fitz continued. “Now if you - if you - don’t mind, I’d like to - I’d like some - some...”

Coulson nodded at him sympathetically ( _pity_ was more like it), his hands raised in surrender. “I’ll let you get to it, Agent Fitz.”

And he left Fitz alone. Just as he found him. **_Alone_**. 


	24. They Avoid Me Like the Plague

“You heard from Simmons at all?”

“ _Nothing._ It’s been months, Trip. She really did leave us.”

“You know…Jemma always seemed like a really good person - good agent, loyal to her friends. But her _partner_ needs her the most, and she just jetted home. Guess I had her all wrong.”

“Yeah - well, I think she just couldn’t handle Fitz and his - well, you know.”

“Yeah, that must’ve been hard to witness. Especially considering how close they were.”

“I don’t care! She didn’t just leave him - she left the rest of the team, too. She left _me_. She’s _selfish._ ”

“ _Woa_. Take a breath, Agent Skye.”

“It’s true, isn’t it? She put her own feelings above everyone else. And thanks to her little departure, Fitz is as _worse_ as ever. You haven’t seen them together like I have, Trip. You caught a couple of snapshots, but seeing them working together and being together - they’re the same person. Well. They _were_.”

“Hence the name _FitzSimmons_. Tell me something I don’t know, Skye.” 

“Their bond was something to see, seriously. They were _family_ to each other - which I was super jealous about when I first met them, by the way. Their bond was stronger than most married couples. And honestly, I thought they - well. I was wrong. About all of it.”

“It’s hard when people let you down. When they shatter the perfect image you’ve created of them.”

“Oh, I know she’s not perfect. Have you _seen_ her attempt to go undercover? She’s the worst. No. I just thought they were perfect _together_.”

“Yeah, well, fact is - she made a choice. She chose the easy way out and left us to pick up the slack.”

“But that’s just the thing, Trip. Jemma Simmons _never_ takes the easy way out.”

“She did this time. So we don’t need her.”

It was clear that neither owner of the voices knew Fitz was in his bunk, a couple feet away from them, listening to every word. He wiped his eyes and tried to gain control of his shaky breathing. Once Trip and Skye were gone, he let out his mounting anger and hurt by pounding his desk in fury, shoving everything off of it. 

_And thanks to her little departure, Fitz is as worse as ever._

“You’re going to have to clean all that up, you know.” 

Fitz was tired. He was tired, and he was frustrated. But he missed her. And so.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We both know that my…it isn’t up to your…to your…”

“Standards?”

“Yeah, so might as well clean it for me.”

“Nonsense. You have two perfectly capable -” He gave her a look and she quickly amended her word choice. “Well, _one_ perfectly capable hand to clean it yourself. _You_ caused the mess. Not me.”

Fitz stared at her hard. “ _Didn’t_ you?” He turned around from her, crouching down to pick up the strewn items on the floor, not caring if she was there or not when he turned back around. (She wasn’t.) 


	25. It's Been a Tad Lonely, True

_**There is no way I’m looking for a boyfriend** _

_Nope. You’re definitely_ not _thinking of Fitz. Nope. Nope. Nope._

_**There is no way I’m looking for a scene** _

_There is no room for frivolity and chaos and familiarity. This is_ Hydra. _An      organization that could quite readily have your head on a silver platter._

**_I need to save some dough_ **

**_I’m a working girl, you know_ **

_Focus on the job. Focus on why you’re here. The job. The job is what matters    and what you can do to help the team - help_ him -

**_I’ll fend attention off -_ ** **_I keep to myself_ **

_Don’t give anyone reason to doubt your intentions. Don’t give them a reason to  doubt_ you. _Keep to yourself._

**_I love my room - I’m getting used to sleeping_ **

_Your new place is lovely. All to yourself. Enjoy the modern comforts of your         new flat and focus on the job._

_**Some nights I really like to lie awake** _

_Don’t focus on those_ damn _nights where you cry yourself to sleep because you    miss - don’t think about them. Focus on the job. The mission._

**_I hear the midnight birds_ **

**_The message in their words_ **

_Focus. Focus. Focus._

_**The dawn will touch me in a way a boy could never touch** _

_**Their promise meant so much to me** _

_There. That’s it. Routine is what you need now. Routine and focusing on the       job. Don’t think - don’t dream - don’t dwell - the job, Jemma. The_ job.

**_You have been warned, I’m warned to be contrary_ **

_You’re S.H.I.E.L.D., Jemma Simmons. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent working in the    underbelly of Hydra, and if Fitz could see you now -_

_**Backward at school, I wrote from right to left** _

_Don’t think - don’t dwell - don’t dream - don’t dwell on those Academy days    where Fitz was always at your side. Don’t think about being unable to fit with  anyone else. Don’t dream about_ why _you were so intensely drawn to him._

_**Teacher never cared for me** _

_**Preacher said a prayer for me** _

_No one understood you. Not your parents - thought they tried their best, of    course. Not your childhood playmates - if you ever really had any. Not other  bright young minds at the Academy. No one. No one but -_ stop. _Jemma. Focus  on the job. The_ job. 

**_God help the girl_ **

**_She needs all the help she can get_ **

_The_ job. _Focus, Jemma. Don’t think - don’t dream - don’t dwell…_ oh, Fitz.

**_I sit for hours just waiting for his phone call_ **

_If only - if only - if only - if only -_ no. _The job, Jemma. That’s_ it. _That’s all._

_**I’ll leave the chocolate hidden in the fridge** _

_Focus on the job. The job. The job. Although - you may want to take a second    glance at your groceries. The fridge looks a bit like your first year when you and Fitz -_ damn it.

**_I’ll play his messages_ **

**_Analyze his intonation_ **

_“Happy Birthday, Jemma!”_

_“Happy Birthday, Jemma. It's not the same without you here. Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me, and I’ll see you    soon.”_

_See you soon…see you soon…_ No. _He was able to perfectly articulate that  message. He’s_ healing. _Now it’s time for you to do the same. Focus on the job._

_**Please stop me there, I’m even boring myself** _

_What are feelings, really? Inconvenient, pestering nuisances, distracting you  from the_ job. _He’s well and healing and_ alive, _and that’s all you need to feel  about the subject._

_**I think of him when I’m doing the dishes** _

**_I think of him while looking in the sink_ **

_Don’t let your feel - your_ thoughts _distract you from the job, Agent Simmons.    One slip-up, and you’re a dead woman. Don’t think - don’t dream - don’t dwell    on things like romance and **love**_ _and heartbreak and_ **Fitz** _._

**_This ain’t no play on words_ **

**_My love for him is absurd_ **

_You would do anything for that man._ Anything. _And this is your way of showing   it. Showing_ him. _So harness that motivation and focus on the_ job _at hand._

_**If he gave me a sign, I’d think about it for a week** _

**_I’d build it up, and then I’d turn him down_ **

_He can’t know. He can’t know what you did._ Why _you did it. He can’t know. It’s  better this way, right? It’s important that he heals. That’s what’s important. The_ job _is what’s important. And he can never know what you did for - for -_ for _-_ **love** _. Don’t think about the implication of the word - what it means. Don’t think - don’t dream - don’t dwell -_

_**You have been warned, I’m warned to be contrary** _

_**Backward at school, I wrote from right to left** _

_**Teacher never cared for me** _

_**Preacher said a prayer for me** _

_**God help the girl** _

_**She needs all the help she can get** _


	26. Cause That's Worked Out So Well for Me in the Past

Fitz stumbled clumsily to his bunk. He only had two beers with Hunter and Mack, but since his brain trauma, he hadn’t had been drinking much and his appetite had lessoned, so he was a bit more of a lightweight than usual. He didn’t even bother to change out of his clothes and flopped facedown on his bed, hugging his pillow. And like clockwork, his thoughts revolved around Jemma. _Moving on, my_ ass. For how could a person move on from their soulmate? From their better half? He still missed her, and he still loved her, and that - well. That’s all he knew.

Ever since Coulson told him she was dark on a special assignment, he had been sick with worry. Hadn’t Coulson seen her undercover skills? They were subpar at best. What was to stop the wrong people from finding out the truth?

And did she really not want to be around him _that_ much that she chose a dangerous secret mission in order to get away from him? Did what happened to him and what he _stupidly_ said to her on the bottom of the ocean really turn her away to the point of risking of her life to simply avoid being in an odd situation?

He was worried, and he was drunk, and he was hurt. His heart was broken - like other parts of him. The alcohol in his system was heavily sleep-inducing, and he drifted off, dreaming of Jemma, sleepily cursing his subconscious as he did so. For no matter how much he tried to move on from her, there she was. Whether in dreams or hallucinations or simple memories. There she always was. And he didn’t think that was ever going to change - regardless of where she was.


	27. Is That Really You?

“How’ve you been?” 

 _Oh gee, I don’t know, Jemma. How have I been? Well, let’s see, shall we? Coulson gave me an assignment that - still, after all these months - I wasn’t able to - to…People at the base treat me like some sort of - sort…well. You know. But_ no. _You_ don’t, _do you? My mistake. I thought I was talking to the fucking_ **hallucination** _of you that my screwed-up brain conjured up for me._

 _You’re wondering how I’ve been? You should’ve been here to see for_ yourself _. We could’ve figured out the - the - well. We could’ve figured it out together. Like we always do. Like we always_ did _. Because we’re not a “we” anymore now, are we? We’re a “you”, and we’re a “me”, and that’s all. Eleven years of the Academy and Sci-Ops and the Bus - guess they didn’t matter to you._

 _How have I been - really?! You’re really asking me that after all this time? You damn well_ know _how I’ve been - you could probably articulate it better than I could. You told me you were going to Sheffield - you told me - you told me - **you told me.** You lied. You went undercover to _ Hydra _of all places instead. Don’t you think I had a right to_ know _? Don’t you think - don’t you -_

_How have I been, you ask? I’ve been hurt and damaged and heart-broken and frustrated and lonely and worried and - and -_

“Fine. Been fine. You?” 


	28. That's Not What Happened

Jemma didn’t care how she sounded or looked to Mack. He provoked her with his chastising and lecturing and insinuating that she had _anything_ but Fitz’s best interests at heart. 

_Didn’t he know?_ Didn’t he know how it killed her to leave him? To leave him after what happened and what he said to her and knowing that he wasn’t okay and leaving anyway? 

It was his best chance at recovery - it’s what she told herself during sleepless nights. While undercover. And then to find out that he resented her for leaving - and she couldn’t truly express her _reason_ for leaving and _Mack_ \- who knew her a couple of weeks - had the _nerve_ to -

She just had to accept it. He resented her, and Mack resented her, and that was that. Mack’s silence began to unnerve her, but she didn’t waver, glaring back at him. 

“So,” Mack began slowly. “You’re saying that -”

“I’m _saying_ that you know nothing of me or my feelings or our relationship or what I - what I -” If she couldn’t finish the sentence for herself, there was _no_ way she could for Mack. 

“Look. I’m sorry for assuming…I consider him a friend - like you said - I’m just looking out for him.” 

“I know,” Jemma said simply. 

Mack chuckled uneasily. “Okay, then.” He started to leave when - “Give him time, Agent Simmons.” And he left her alone with those parting words.

She was starting to get _really_ impatient with being advised to give Fitz _time_. She didn’t _want_ to give Fitz time. She had been separated from him for a long time for the first time in eleven years. She gave him enough _time_. And now, it was painstakingly apparent that she sacrificed their relationship to do so. 


	29. Is That All It Takes?

“You could be nicer to him, you know.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes as she poured boiling water in her mug, steeping her tea. She turned to find Fitz grabbing his own cup and preparing his own. “I assume you’re referring to Mack. Although I personally think that I have been nothing but cordial.”

Fitz gave her a disbelieving look and didn’t say anything for a bit. “Really? You have? Look, Mack is my friend. He was my friend after- after you…” He trailed off, and Jemma had to look away from his accusing glare. “So I would think you could show him a little -”

Jemma threw up her hands. “You know, I’m kind of tired of always being the bad guy here. Have you not been privy to his treatment of _me_? I’m your friend _too_.” 

Fitz scoffed cruelly. “Lousy way of showing it, then.”

Jemma felt like she had been slapped. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she hastily grabbed her mug. 

“Jemma…” Fitz’s eyes seemed apologetic and he extended a hand to - to…well. She didn’t quite know. But the damage was done. In exponentially more ways than one.

**“ _Don’t_.” **

She left a stunned Fitz in the kitchen, and it was only until she arrived to her bunk did she allow the tears to fall. 


	30. We Two, Especially

Fitz hesitated outside the medical room, wondering if the current occupant might want some company. _What a ridiculous thought._ He _always_ wants company. He decided to enter the room. 

“Agent Fitz! How’s it going?” Trip was smiling, but Fitz could tell the man was in a great deal of pain.

“Just checking in. Making sure you’re all right.” 

Trip chuckled. “I’ve been better. But I’ll be fine. Thanks to you and Coulson.” 

Fitz nodded enthusiastically. “Ah. Okay. Well. Good, then.” He knew he was lingering there awkwardly, but this was a guy he had really come to respect, and he wanted to -

“Something on your mind, Fitz?” 

“What? N- no.”

Trip simply stared, clearly not buying it.

“Well, there is…” Fitz began. “I just- you were right about Coulson, you know. I thought he was just pla- placating me, but he really did have a plan.”

Trip grinned. “Hey, man. It’s cool. Wasn’t that long ago when you were trying to convince me of the same thing. We’ve all experienced our doubts about the guy.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but when the roles were reversed, I sort of had ulterior motivations. Trip, I wanted to apologize for -”

“All water under the bridge. No apologies necessary.” 

“I just want to be clear. It was never you I-”

Trip put his hand up to stop Fitz from continuing. “I know.” 

“You do?” Fitz tilted his head, confused. 

Trip laughed not unkindly. “Of _course_ I do. And I’m telling you, we’re _good_ , Fitz.”

Fitz looked down guiltily. “Still doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

“’The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing’.” 

“ _Okay._  I’m going to leave before you quote something _else_ I haven’t read.”

Trip’s easy laugh followed him all the way to the hallway. 


	31. What's Best

When Jemma first returned from being undercover, Fitz had not expected their reunion to go as it had. How many days had he longed for her return? Enough to actually hallucinate her, that’s for sure. But reality was much different than expectation, and their conversations were clipped and terse at best. She clearly couldn’t bring herself to talk about what he told her at the bottom of the ocean. And he felt more and more emasculated being around her. 

It wasn’t her fault. Deep down, he knew that. But it was so _damn_ easy to blame her. For all of it. He _missed_ her. _Oh_ , how he missed her. She was there, but she wasn’t. What with her new-fangled haircut and new-fangled attitude and new-fangled months of undercover work he wasn’t a part of. She wasn’t the same. She had changed, and he had changed, and unfortunately, their changes didn’t compliment the other. It drove them apart.

_You know at some point you’re going to have to talk to her, right?_

He hadn’t been able to get Mack’s words out his head. Of _course_ he knew. He couldn’t avoid Jemma forever. But the conversation he needed to have with her would be truly difficult. He knew it was the right thing. Seeing her hurt expression every time he opened his mouth told him it was the right thing. He was still nursing a broken heart, and it was affecting his work to be around her all the time.

So he thought of a solution. He couldn’t work with Jemma, but he _could_ work with Mack, so he would work in the garage ( _ **their** _ lab) instead of the new lab. He knew that this new plan would hurt her still. He knew she desperately wanted things as they had always been. He knew he was taking her best friend away from her. And it pained him to see it. But he was hurting and she was hurting, and something needed to be done. 

He would do anything for her. He would do anything, and he’s done everything, and this is the next _anything_ she needed, though she would never admit it. 

And that was time away from him. 

-

A/N: In case you missed it, I compiled a playlist from Fitz’s point-of-view during the first three seasons that can fit right along in Glimpse-verse or be listened to separately (it’s all canon to me, lol). Listen to it **[here](https://8tracks.com/consoledacup/glimpses-of-feeling-rocket-science) ** and check out the track listing **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/post/146480417064/glimpses-of-feeling-rocket-science)**. :) 


	32. You Might Still Have Hurt Feelings

“Fitz! We have to do something!” Jemma was frantic. _Trip! What have you done?!_

Fitz was breathing hard, looking all around them. “We _can’t_ , Jemma.” 

“He was just trying to help, Fitz! He was just trying to -” 

“I know, Jemma.” There was a hopelessness to Fitz’s tone that Jemma couldn’t handle, and she stood up hastily.

“What, first Mack - now, _Trip_? When will it _end_ , Fitz?” 

“I don’t know.” Fitz sighed, standing next to her. 

“And now Coulson, Trip, Mack, and Skye are all down there. Where we rigged explosives. What have we _done_?” Jemma’s breaths turned into shaky gasps, and she started to rapidly blink back tears. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fitz begin to reach out his hand - perhaps to console her - but he withdrew it and returned it to its side. _Oh, Fitz._ She turned to him, eyes pleading. “Are you really going to leave the lab?” She asked in a small voice.

Fitz sighed wearily. “Jemma. We’ve been over this. It’s what’s best right -”

“Are- are you really going to leave _me_?”

He stared at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. She could see the hurt and the frustration. She could see the (still) muted affection he held for her. And it scared her, and it pained her. But he couldn’t leave her. He _couldn’t_.

“Jemma,” Fitz started. “I’m not lea-”

A rumble interrupted whatever Fitz was about to say, and Jemma felt the earth beneath her feet vibrate intensely. She and Fitz shared a frightened look and both glanced up at the ceiling where it was starting to rain down dust. 

Before she could think about what to do, Fitz grabbed her in his arms, tightly securing her, shielding her from the falling debris. She clung to him. She clung to her best friend, not wanting him to let go. After all these months of separation and hurt and hurled accusations and frustration and stalled recoveries, she still felt the safest in his arms. 

“Hang on, Jemma. I got you.”

And he did. She knew things were different between them. She knew there was a lot for them to hash out. She knew their relationship was strained at best. But she also knew that he would always be there for her. _Always._ And she felt the exact same way. Maybe the love (whatever love that may be) they had for each other ran deeper than the clipped conversations and terse words. Maybe they’d be okay. Maybe they’d be more than…

 _Well._ All that mattered right then to her was that they could be possibly be a  _they_ again. And the rest? They would figure it out. _Together._

_-_

In case you missed it, I compiled a playlist from Jemma’s point-of-view during the first three seasons that can fit right along in Glimpse-verse or be listened to separately (it’s all canon to me, lol). Listen to it [here](https://8tracks.com/consoledacup/glimpses-of-feeling-two-phd-s) and check out the track listing [here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/post/146508742289/glimpses-of-feeling-two-phds). 

Listen to Fitz's counterpart playlist [here](https://8tracks.com/consoledacup/glimpses-of-feeling-rocket-science). :) 


	33. In Fragments

Fitz was devastated. He was heartbroken. He knew things wouldn’t end well for Trip after the man hastily decided to go back down and save Skye and Coulson, but he didn’t expect to see a statue of Trip, broken bit-by-bit into pieces. It was a lot to take in, even for their team, and Trip didn’t deserve it. Trip was a remarkable man, remarkable agent. When his S.O. turned out to be corrupt, he abandoned him in a flash. Just like that. And loyally followed and defended Coulson. 

He was kicking himself for taking out his jealousy on Trip when the agent first joined their team. It wasn’t his fault that Jemma was attracted to him. Why did he have to be such a _wank_ about it? And to top it all off, Trip _knew_ and _still_ didn’t blame him. Trip was better than a lot of men he knew. Himself included. But Jemma -

 _Jemma._ She must be…he needed to…

He found her with her back towards him, her head bowed low. He was still leaving the lab to work with Mack. He was still hurt by her actions. He was still a lot of things. But he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder anyway, his thumb moving in soothing circles. Just like his conjured up vision of her had done time and time again. 

His hand was met with hers, gripping his tightly, and she shook with sobs. They remained like that for a bit. Not speaking. Not moving. Just holding a small part of each other. And the connection that he had convinced himself was all but shattered and beyond repair - it was still there. Maybe not as strong. Maybe not as sturdy. But there all the same. So he kept his hand on her shoulder, only letting go when she did. 

“I am sorry, Jemma.” 

She turned around, her tears glistening, looking beautiful and deeply saddened. 

“Trip was a good man,” she sniffled. “He didn’t deserve this. Any of this.” She swept her arms around her, motioning all around the cave. And then her gaze turned steely. “And I’m going to make sure that what happened to him doesn’t happen to anyone else. _Ever_ again.”

Fitz looked at her questioningly. “What do you -”

“Fitz. You ready?” Coulson interrupted the two, gesturing towards the team behind him. They were headed back towards the base, while Jemma was to stay in the cave, gaining all new information she could about the events that transpired.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out once more, squeezing her arm gently before departing with Coulson and the rest of the team. 

They weren’t okay. Not by a long shot. But pieces of hope and light kept breaking through the _not okay_. They weren’t okay, but they were getting there. 


	34. So Now We're Even

“Hey Jemma. Thought you might like some tea. Was making my- myself some anyway.” 

She put the offered tea on the lab desk. “Already had my share today, but thank you.” Her tone was clipped, and Fitz took back the obvious peace-offering and wordlessly left the lab.

-

“Jemma. Have you seen my -” Fitz was met with a cold stare, and he cast his eyes downward. “You know what, never- never mind. I’ll find it myself.”

-

“Hey Simmons! Settle a bet. Fitz here says he can -” But one look at Jemma’s expression made Hunter pause his banter. “You know what, he probably can.” 

Jemma nodded cooly. “Yes. I would imagine he can.” 

Fitz merely stared at Jemma who wouldn’t meet his gaze. He shyly handed her a beer and motioned to the empty seat next to him. She politely declined both offers and walked around the whole group gathered in the lounge to squish next to Bobbi on the love seat.

-

_Umph_. Fitz was heading from the garage, and Jemma was heading from the lab, and they both crashed into each other, each spilling the contents in their arms. 

“S- sorry, Jemma.” He hastily gathered Jemma’s papers first, handing them to her. 

“My mistake, Leo. Thanks.” She took the items from his hands and left him in the hallway.

-

Fitz stood in her way, arms crossed, blocking her entrance to the lab. “We need to talk.”

Jemma held up her hand primly. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Fitz stared her down. “You can’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. You knew why I didn’t tell you the truth.”

“You _corrupted_ data, Fitz!” 

“Okay, so I did. And you worked undercover at Hydra for months without telling _me_.”

“Let me get past, please.” 

“ _No_.” Fitz stood his ground, glaring. 

Jemma gritted her teeth. “ _Fine_.” She spun around and left him standing there.

She needed to check on Skye anyway. 

 


	35. Together Could Rekindle

“So how’s our favorite pair getting on?” Fitz turned to find Jemma smiling in his direction which was somewhat of a rarity lately. 

“Huh?” 

“You know. Dr. Garner and _May_. Heard anything new?”

“Oh, um. Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He wouldn’t meet her questioning gaze and started picking imaginary lint off his cardigan. 

“Well?” He really hated to kill the mood and erase her playful grin, but he heard what he heard. 

“Ah…well…she sort of…she asked him to stay on as a S.H.I.E.L.D. consultant.”

“Well, that’s fantastic! Dr. Garner is such a good man, and now maybe they -”

“He left, Jemma. Overheard May and Coulson discussing it earlier.” 

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Fitz chuckled humorlessly. “Not quite as fun to talk about as May potentially poisoning him with her cooking.” 

“No. I suppose not,” Jemma smiled weakly. 

Fitz was reluctant to leave the conversation. For if he did, the momentary, unspoken truce they both accidentally found themselves in would all but disappear. And he didn’t want to go back to what they were before. But Dr. Garner was gone just like he was gone from the lab just like Jemma was gone for several months, and life went on. 

“I’ll just…” Fitz made it as far as the hallway when Jemma’s voice calling his name stopped him. He turned around, not expecting to see the sadness in her eyes when he did.

“Do you…” Jemma began, and Fitz felt the air shift between the two of them. “Do you think there’s hope for them? Of finding their way back to each other?”

And for the first time in quite a while, Fitz understood Jemma perfectly. “There’s always hope, Jemma.” 

Her cautious smile in response stayed with him all the way back to the garage. 


	36. It's You

Did he not know? Did he not know she was under direct orders? Did he not know she only wanted what was best for Skye but had to take all the necessary precautions? Did he really consider her that heartless? That _unfeeling_? Fitz accusing her, and Fitz protecting others from her, and Fitz confronting her….who did this new Fitz think he was, anyway? 

What right did he have to point fingers at her? To cast blame? Did he really lose all respect for her? Were they really, truly not friends anymore? How did it come from being inseparable best friends to- to _this_? This biting, hurtful, accusatory, cold, tense, terse, painful relationship? _If you could even call it that,_ she thought bitterly. Did she really change that much? Was she really that hardened and paranoid and skeptical? When had she turned into a cynic? 

 _When Ward dropped you two from the sky_. Of course. Fitz knew. That’s why he called her out on it. That’s why he said what he did. Because she had been on such a dangerous cleansing rampage after what happened to Trip. But those emotions only skimmed the surface of what she had been struggling to accept. She missed Trip. _Oh,_ how she missed him. In fact, one point, she even entertained the idea of… _well_. That didn’t matter now. No. Trip was a good man and a good agent and did not deserve what happened to him. She grieved for him still.

But losing Trip was like a wake-up call. To the dangers of her job. To the wickedness of the world. And to her burgeoning feelings. Yes, she had previously thought that she might get on romantically with Trip, and the looks he would throw her way sometimes made her believe that the feeling might be mutual. But that all became obsolete when another man’s actions challenged her and saved her and horrified her and shook her to her very core. And she had tried to keep his words - his parting words on the ocean floor - at bay. She had tried to suppress them, focusing on anything but. 

She chided herself for thinking she had succeeded. She meant what she told Bobbi. She was very confused. Before Fitz’s confession, she never even thought they could be _more_. But the bottom line was, during all those months when she was alone in her flat after a long, arduous day of deceiving her employer, Fitz was the first thing she thought of in the morning and the last one that crossed her mind at night. Fitz and his goodness and unwavering determination to do what was right. Fitz and his ridiculous quirks and steady heart. Fitz and his fantastically beautiful mind and stupid jokes. Fitz and his handsome features and kind eyes. _Fitz_. 

She still thought of him that way. Even with their constant fighting and bickering and harsh words and clipped conversations and eye rolls and - _and_ longing looks and sorrowful glances and hurt - oh, so much hurt. He was her best friend in the world but also more than that, and she cursed herself for the months wasted, ignoring something staring her blazingly in the face. 

 ** _She loved him_. ** That’s why she left all those months ago. It’s why his words and her words and their words were hurting her so deeply now. It’s why she had been insistent on them staying together and working together and being together for eleven years. 

 _ **She loved him**_ , but he acted as if he didn’t recognize her. And she could barely recognize him. And there was _no_ way she was bringing up his confession to her now. Not when he was still angry at her. Not when she was still angry at him. She didn’t know if there was even hope for them to begin anew. To start this new chapter. But what she did know was that this man, this engineer, this agent had her heart. _**She loved him.**_ And she didn’t think _that_ would ever change - despite the other ones they’d both undergone. 


	37. I Would Never Hurt You

Jemma was dizzy with relief when she found him unscathed. Coulson had mentioned to her that Fitz was going to the server to shutdown the base manually, and minutes later, she heard a heart-stopping explosion coming from that direction. 

But he was fine. Unharmed. Silent. Seething. Worried. All of it. He saw her and nodded, his eyes unreadable, exhaling a sigh. Did he feel as relieved to see her? The last words he said to her and the last words she said to him…

But there they were. Agents and traitors moving about all around them. Side-by-side, they watched the takeover. Side-by-side, they waited. Side-by-side, they stayed. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached over, placing her hand on his, resting on his leg. Gripping his hand firmly, her own channeled all the feeling and the affection and the _love_  she could. After weeks…well, _months_ , really, of holding back, walking on eggshells, separate views, the _hurt_ , she boldly took the first step. The seconds passed excruciatingly slow while she waited for his next move. And when he covered her hand with his other one, holding hers firmly in place, she summoned up the courage to look at him with Fitz following suit. _This is it._   _This is the moment, Jemma Simmons. Tell him._  Overcome with…well, _all of it_ , she opened her mouth, ready to pour out her heart. _Tell him now, before -_

Fitz’s gaze broke away from her, studying something behind her, and Jemma tucked away the moment. Saving it for another time. Another place. Another handhold and reassuring look and mutual understanding. She tucked it away and turned to face Dr. Weaver where feelings of betrayal flooded and overpowered feelings of everything else. 

-

“How’s your patient doing?” Same sarcastic tone when he questioned her about Skye that same - _was it_ really _that same day?_ Same basic wording. Same hidden-meaning behind the inquiry. But this time, the bitterness - the _resentment_ \- wasn’t directed at her. And she felt a wave of… _something_ , despite the predicament Coulson’s team was currently in.

“Mack’s wounds are stabilized as Weaver had already stated.” She sat back down on the floor against the lab desk, returning to Fitz’s side once more.

Fitz merely nodded, looking down at his hands.

“I am sorry, Fitz,” Jemma began slowly, cautiously. They had silently reconciled, but actually speaking to him still felt a bit daunting. When she saw his look of confusion, she continued. “About- about Mack, I mean. I know he was your - I know you guys were friends.”

Fitz scowled. “He’s no friend of mine.”

Jemma sighed, leaning her head against the desk, and closed her eyes. “I know what you mean. If it weren’t for Bobbi, I wouldn’t’ve made it out of Hydra. She saved my life, and now I can’t even look at -”

“You never did that.” 

Jemma opened her eyes and lifted her head to find Fitz staring at her with an expression of admiration and - _and -_

“I was _so_ mad at you, you know. I was hurt and felt betrayed and thought you didn’t care and just- just simply gave up on me.” Fitz’s eyes were honest, and Jemma felt for him, daring to think about him feeling those things all those months. 

“I would _never_ -”

“I know.” Fitz’s smile was small but warm, and he took her hand in his briefly again, squeezing once before letting go. She already felt a peculiar sense of loss at the contact.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to tell him the truth. “Fitz, you have to - you must know the reason I left wasn’t because -”

Fitz held a hand up, his smile deepening. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jemma. Don’t you see? I _trust_ you. And in this crazy coup with Skye and Hunter gone and Coulson and May arrested, we’re all we’ve got now. It’s time we put our pet- petty disagreements aside and stick together.”

Jemma blinked back tears and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I’d -I’d like that very much, Fitz.” 

And even though several minutes later it was made clear to them that they were free to move about, they remained where they were. _Side-by-side_. 


	38. May as Well Have Packed My Bags Yourself

Jemma was grateful Fitz had already thrown his clothes, among other things, in his pack. She did _not_ want to be the one to handle his undergarments. With her newfound realization and all…it seemed… _inappropriate_. She slipped Director Fury’s toolbox in the pack, thinking back to the last time she helped Fitz pack for a mission. So much had changed since his first mission going dark with - with _Ward_ , and she was astounded at how much he - well, both of them, really - had changed since. 

Hiding the little box within his other things, she zipped the pack up, before a silly idea occurred to her. She placed the pack underneath her bed and headed towards the kitchen.

She recalled a heated conversation previously had with Fitz right after they had found out Ward was a treacherous snake. They were sitting outside at the motel, their feet in the pool, and Fitz _still_ insisted on Ward’s innocence. _Ooh, he was insufferable what with his kind, kind heart and unwavering loyalty and -_  

When Jemma asked him to at least _consider_ Ward’s guilt, he begrudgingly began to tick off Ward’s sins and annoyances. 

 _“You know, I never told you this, because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but Ward **threw out** that delicious sandwich you made for me before I had a chance to eat it. That _bastard _. Said we were being tracked.”_

Jemma still had a smile on her face from the memory. He was so _cute_ when he was all riled up like that - and over a _sandwich_! She opened the refrigerator and grabbed what she needed to make that same sandwich. His favorite.

When she had approached him earlier that day - after he left her alone with Bobbi and Gonzales, she was nervous about what he might think about her scheme. She had found him in his bunk, hastily tearing apart his room, throwing whatever he needed in his pack. He halted his actions when he saw her standing there in his doorway.

_“So. Have you- are you leaving too?”_

_Jemma took a deep breath. “Before I answer that, do you trust me?”_

_Fitz’s gaze was serious, and his tiny smile lifted her spirits when he simply nodded and said, “With my_ life _, Jemma.”_

_Jemma tried to contain the grin desperately seeking to split her face before promptly answering, “Good. I have a plan.”_

_-_

_“So, you’re saying you want_ me _to leave the base by myself with the real toolbox and try to track down Coulson?”_

_Jemma nodded excitedly. “Yes, and I’ll stay here, covering for you, pretending to open the decoy.”_

_“What about when they scan me and pat me down? I can’t just walk off with the real thing in my pack.”_

_“Well, that’s the beauty of me pretending to be on their side. They won’t suspect little Agent Simmons hiding contraband. We’ll make a whole production of it, Fitz.”  
_

_Fitz chuckled, “And how do you suppose we do that?”_

_Jemma looked down, unable to meet his eyes when she bravely said, “Well. It’s_ no _secret we’ve had quite a few rows, lately. We’ll just put on a big quarrel in public where you accuse me of being disloyal, and I accuse you of not fulfilling your role as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Then_ no one _will suspect you and I are in cahoots together, and I’ll pack your bag for - what is it?” She was so focused on her plan, she almost missed Fitz’s downcast expression._

 _“I just - I_ hate _that we can make this believable because of how you and I have been. I want you to know that whatever I say to you - I don’t mean any of it. Okay, Jemma?”_

 _Jemma smiled warmly at him. “Oh, Fitz. You and I are_ good. _Of course I know that. But you know that I’m quite horrendous at lying when put on-the-spot, so let’s go through this once more, shall we?”_

_They had reviewed their plan again when Jemma suddenly stopped, a troubling thought pestering her._

_“Jemma?”  
_

_She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s just - It’s - you’re probably going to be tailed, and we’re stealing from S.H.I.E.L.D., and well…” Jemma sighed. “You’ll be careful.”_

_Fitz shook his head, pursing his lips. “Don’t worry about me, Jemma. I’ll be fine.”_

The “quarrel” had turned out to be better than she had hoped. Fitz was a fantastic actor, really. She put the finishing touches on the sandwich, cutting it in two and wrapping the halves in handmade paper sleeves, tying each with string. Once satisfied that the the sandwich was completely covered with a cloth napkin and would not get on that favorite blue shirt of hers that he owned, she decided to label the sandwich and include a brief note. 

She opened the drawer in front of her, surveying what the base had and selected a black marking pen and several bits of thin cardboard. She began to write:

~~_Dear Fitz,_ ~~

~~_Please be safe.  Ward isn’t here to take your sandw_ ~~

_No._ She sounded ridiculous. She grabbed another piece of cardboard. 

_~~Fitz,~~ _

_~~I made you your favorite sandwich.~~ _

_~~I’m glad we’re friends again. Enjoy, and be caref~~ _

_Ugh!_ What was _wrong_ with her?! 

_~~Fitz,~~ _

_~~Prosciutto and mozzarella with a hint of my famous pesto aioli.~~ _

_~~Be safe. I love yo~~ _

She was _mad._ That was the only explanation. There was _no way_ she was going to confess _that_ to him under the description of a sandwich. 

She wrote one final note - happy with the platonic undertones with a _hint_ of something more:

_Prosciutto & Mozzarella _

_Be safe!_

_Love, Jemma_

_-_

Check out the added flashback to this particular episode that catalogues Trip and Fitz's time working on the 21st century Howling Commando kit told from Trip's perspective: [We Had the Better Hand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7320274). 


	39. We Could Debate All Day

May left Coulson’s - _was it still Coulson’s? -_ office, leaving Jemma alone with Mack. She held her hands nervously and wondered how she might make a gracious exit without giving away her current predicament. _How on earth am I going to open the box that Fitz has safely with him?_

She headed for the door when Mack’s voice stopped her.

“You heard from Turbo, at all?”

Jemma halted and turned around, crossing her arms in defense. “I really don’t think he would appreciate you calling him that, given the circumstances, Agent MacKenzie.”

Mack nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Given what he thinks he knows, I don’t blame him.”

“What he thinks he - Fitz is a literal _genius_. If he _thinks_ he knows something, it’s most likely, undisputedly the truth.”

Mack sighed. “I meant about me.” 

“Well, I should think the hostile takeover of our base might have something to do with his current opinion of you.” 

“Yeah.” He looked at her imploringly. “You think - when all of this is said and done - you think he’ll forgive me?” 

Jemma shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t decided if _I_ even forgive you, yet.”

Mack smiled grimly. “That’s fair.” 

“Look, you of all people saw the strained relationship Fitz and I had when I returned from working undercover. He felt betrayed. And _you_ accused me of -”

Mack scrubbed his face with his hand, blinking wearily. “Yeah. Seems like I had you all wrong.”

Jemma stared defiantly back at him. “You _did_.”

Mack’s unexpected, brash chuckle unnerved Jemma. 

“And _what_ \- pray tell - is suddenly so laughable?” 

“Sorry,” Mack put his hands up in surrender. “It’s just - there I was all those months ago - thinking you didn’t care about him, didn’t have _feelings_ fo-” He stopped abruptly at Jemma’s stormy expression. “Anyway. He’s lucky to have you, Jemma.”

“It’s the other way around, actually. And I wish I could say the same about you, Agent MacKenzie.” And with that, she spun around and exited -  _Coulson’s? -_ office, leaving a dumbfounded Mack in her wake. 


	40. To the Wolves

It was bizarre. It was bizarre for Jemma to defend Coulson to May. She had thought that woman would follow him anywhere. She meant what she said. She didn’t care what was in the box. She just wanted her friends - _Fitz -_ back safe and sound. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Jemma gestured to her computer. “I have to get back to work.”

May nodded, studying her. She didn’t understand why May still stood there. Her silent, steady presence could be very unnerving at times.

“He’s going to be fine, you know.” Jemma turned to May in spite of herself, giving her a curious look.

“Fitz.” May answered her questioning gaze simply. “He’s a good agent, Simmons. He can take care of himself.”

“I’m perfectly aware of Fitz’s exemplary capabilities.” 

“Then, what -”

“He _trusted_ me, May. He and I have finally gotten back to a good place, and he trusted me with this plan, and now, it’s as if I’ve betrayed him all over again.” Jemma cursed the tears springing to her eyes. She was so _sick_ of crying. 

“Is _that_ what you think? That you betrayed him when you worked undercover?”

“ _No._ Well…I mean. I didn’t until he stopped being my friend after I got back.”

May gave her a hard look. “What you did for Fitz…you _didn’t_ betray him then and you didn’t betray him now. And deep down, he knows that.”

“And are you going to tell him that before or _after_ you lock him up when you find him?” 

“ _Simmons_.”

“ _Just_. This plan better work.” Jemma turned back to her computer, conveying her desire to the end the conversation.

Thankfully, May took the hint.


	41. Seems the Two of Them Are in Love

The minute Fitz got off the quinjet (and ensured Hunter was properly taken care of), he made a beeline for the lab. When he found her, he couldn’t contain his grin.

“Hi, Jemma.” She turned around at his voice, her grin rivaling his own when she finally saw him. 

“Fitz!” She sprung up from her chair and surprised him by throwing her arms around him. He quickly returned the hug, squeezing once, before letting her go. They stared at each other, still smiling. _God,_ she was beautiful. He awkwardly cleared his throat, once he realized his gaze had lingered far beyond the appropriate platonic timeframe, and she looked down at her feet before meeting his eyes again.

“It’s been _madness_  here, Fitz. It’s good to have you back.” 

Fitz nodded in agreement. “Good to be back, Simmons. Although I’m not wild that we brought _Benedict Arnold_  back with us.”

“What do _you_ have against Benedict Arnold? He _was_ on our side, after all.”

“Still a traitor.”

“True,” Jemma shrugged.

Fitz settled into the chair she had previously been occupying. “How have things been over here?”

Jemma sighed, “Confusing. It’s been very difficult to determine where to put my loyalties.” Jemma gritted her teeth. “May basically put your head on a silver platter once I foolishly told her what you and I did.” 

“ _Hey_. I’m alright. No harm done, Jemma.”

“I know. It’s just - I’m just quite relieved you’re here, Fitz. It’s nice to have someone here that I can actually  _trust_.” 

“I know what you mean.” Fitz glanced down briefly and then met her eyes again. “I missed you.” 

Jemma’s smile in response warmed him all the way down to his toes. 

“I missed you, too.” 


	42. Even That Turned Out Mostly Okay

“You’re keeping something from me.”

“Wha- it’s just the hula dancer from the Bus - thought Skye might get a kick outta -”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about _that_ \- although, I do concur - that is pretty funny what with her just shaking all on her own - and - come on, Jemma. That’s not what I meant.”

Jemma shrugged and put down the little toy, looking at him questioningly. 

“On our mission. With Ward and Bakshi. You were the last one with them before Ward took off and Bakshi was killed. From a _splinter_ bomb. You asked to have a private debrief with Coulson about the mission. Jemma, it’s been days. What happened?” He knew. Of course he knew. But he wanted to give her the chance to be honest with him about it. 

Jemma slowly sank down on the couch in the common area, and Fitz joined her, waiting for her to speak.

“You knew the plan. I was determined to kill Ward.” As she proceeded to tell Fitz the details of the mission, he studied her, trying to mask his outward expression as best he could. “I thought I was dead, for sure, Fitz. Even baited Ward to get it over with quickly.” Jemma’s smile was grim, and Fitz noticed how she started to slightly shake as she recounted the details. 

“So you - you just - you nearly got yourself killed. And for _what_ , Jemma? Was getting revenge worth your own life?” 

Jemma gritted her teeth and stared at Fitz intensely. “He deserves to die for what he did to us. What he did to _you_.” Fitz was taken aback by the fury he saw in her eyes. 

Impulsively, Fitz reached out, taking her hand in his. “Hey. I’m okay. I’m fine, Jemma.” 

“I know. Oh, Fitz, I didn’t mean that you -”

Fitz squeezed her hand once before letting her go. “I know. What I mean is - I don’t ever want you putting yourself in danger on my behalf. _Ever.”_

“The fact that you can say that to me when I almost _lost_ you in that storage pod -”

“-and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.” 

Jemma sighed. Fitz knew he was essentially defending a double standard, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when she was alive, sitting on the couch with him. Couldn’t bring himself to care one bit. He grabbed the little hula dancer from its resting place on the coffee table.

“It _is_ a nice gift, by the way. A nice gesture.”

Jemma nodded. “I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself if I didn’t find some way of expressing to her how much she means to me.”

And oddly enough, Fitz completely understood that she wasn’t talking about Skye at all. 


	43. There Goes the Feeling

Jemma blew out a sigh of relief. “That was close.”

“Are you okay?”

It was a dumb question, he knew. She was fine. It just - he just wanted to ask. They were friends again and close again, and friends shared things like _are you okays_ and _how can I helps_ and _I love yous_ , and - he digressed.

Jemma smiled reassuringly. “Of course I am, Fitz. You and I have faced far worse than this, haven’t we?”

Fitz shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to - you know what? Doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. Let’s get back to the lab - see what we can do for Cal.” His eyes flickered to the man in question, ensuring that he was still trapped by Coulson’s car. Jemma nodded and followed Fitz back to the lab where she took the lead, seeking to find a cure to reverse the effects of Cal’s monstrous transformation.

“Fitz,” Jemma began after several minutes of brainstorming ideas together. “What if the effects of the serum wear off on their own?”

Fitz started at Jemma, her words registering. “You mean - you mean, like a Cinderella-type of situation?” He shuddered, involuntarily conjuring up an image of Cal in a ballgown, swaying to ballroom music, a prince at his arm. _Yikes_.

Jemma snorted. “More of - more like Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic, I’d say.”

“What - _Treasure Island_?” 

Jemma only raised her eyebrows in response. _What could she -_ oh.

“ _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde._ Of course. Makes more sense.” 

“Right. So maybe we just hope the concoction wears off, because I’m at a loss otherwise. I’m going to start cleaning up this ghastly mess he left.”

“Yeah, and I’ll see if I can make contact with Hunter or May.”

“Fitz?” He paused his retreat from the lab, turning to look at her.

“Thank you,” Jemma said. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and was that - _were her cheeks turning -_ “For - for trying to - well, for looking out for me back there.” 

Fitz brushed off her gratitude with a simple shrug. “Anytime, Jemma. You know that.”

Jemma chuckled. _Was sh- was she_ nervous _? What was going_ on _?_

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I do.”

He stared at her a few seconds more, puzzled, and then left to try and make contact with his teammates. Chalking up Jemma’s strange behavior to their already strange day with the strange doctor and the strange war seemed as good as an explanation as any. When all with was over, he was going to need a _nap_.


	44. Maybe There Is

And when she saw Bobbi on her deathbed, Hunter at her side, holding her hand, heartbreak and fear and _love_ swimming in his eyes, she knew.

She knew she had to tell Fitz. To let him know that his feelings were far from one-sided. She waited until the she thought the time was right. She waited until she thought he recovered properly. She waited until she thought they were friends again. She waited and waited and waited and _no more_.  No more waiting. No more stalling. He was headed off to fight dangerous inhumans, and she’d never forgive herself - always regret it - if she didn’t -

She laid a comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder and then hurried out of the lab to find the one man who had been resonating in her heart for months and months.

_No more waiting._

-

She was checking Bobbi’s vitals when she heard it.

“Jemma.” Her back was turned to the speaker, but her heart felt light, and she tried to school her grin and the tears that threatened to spill across her cheeks. She knew he would wait patiently for her to finish checking on Bobbi. After all, there were more important matters occurring than _maybes_ and _you’ll be carefuls_ and -  _oh, damn it._

She spun around and faced him properly. Gleeful.

“You watched your back.” 

They walked quickly towards each other, meeting in the middle in a fierce embrace. 

-

He had recounted to her all that had happened, and she was so relieved he made it through the battle unscathed. 

They were gathered at the kitchen counter, each enjoying some tea that she had brewed for the both of them. 

“So.” She _knew_. She knew exactly what he was about to say before - “About what you said before I went off to war...”

Jemma gripped her mug tighter and offered a shy smile. “Went off to war? You talk like I’m a doting bonnie lass tearfully waving my handkerchief in your direction and offering a lock of my hair to you.” 

Fitz shuddered. “Ew. I’ll thank you to not do that. _Ever_.” 

“I’d say you’re safe.”

Fitz smiled, looking down at his tea. “So um. When did you - when - um - when did you - you know - realize that - that um -”

“That I had feelings for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Um. Well, I think I - that is -” 

“Just. Answer me this,” Fitz cut in. “Was it before or after I told you how I felt?”

“After.” 

Fitz grew silent, a frown crossing his features. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and simply stared into his cup. Considering what she had just confessed to him, she felt extremely exposed and vulnerable, and he certainly wasn’t helping much to ease her nerves. 

“F- Fitz?”

Fitz looked at her with an unreadable expression, and she wondered what exactly she said to make him suddenly distant. 

“So you - you what? You like me because of what I did, is that it?”

“Wha- no, Fitz, of course -”

“Because I don’t want you to feel obligated to me because of some sort of perceived act of heroism. That’s not why -” 

“I _know_. Don’t you get it, Fitz? It wasn’t because you _saved_ me, it’s - I almost _lost_ you, Fitz. Almost lost you, and it nearly destroyed me.” 

“Oh.”

“I had to take time. Take time to process my feelings. This is still rather new to me - I haven’t had years to process this -” 

“Hang on. You make me out to be some sort of sad sap writing poetry and listening to -”

Jemma blushed. “I didn’t mean to imply - that is -” 

“It wasn’t _years_ , Simmons.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“So. Um- so, when?”

Fitz gave her a small smile. “Do you know that I barely slept for a week after your encounter with the Chitauri virus?” 

Jemma laughed a little. “So it took almost losing each other for us to realize what we’ve meant to each other?” 

“Sounds about right.” 

Jemma lifted her mug and sipped her tea, the steam allowing her to calm her nerves a bit. 

“What I don’t understand is...” She knew what he was going to ask next. She could _feel_ it. “...why you left. I mean - if it wasn’t - not because you knew how I felt -” 

Jemma rolled her eyes, clearly deflecting. “Yeah, thanks for _that_ , by the way. Do you have any idea how many stink eyes and rude quips I had to endure from Mack and Hunter when I first returned?” 

Fitz looked down at his tea again. “Thought it was the truth.”

Jemma bravely reached across the counter, grabbing his hand, causing him to look up at her. “It _wasn’t_.”

His eyes held the next question. Unspoken, but clear as day. _Then, why?_

Jemma took a deep breath and withdrew her hand, using both to hold her mug, seeking comfort and courage from the warmth.

“Those few months after what happened...I saw - well. Fitz, you have to know I truly believed I was sabotaging your recovery. Anything I did - anything I said - simply frustrated you more.” 

“Jemma.” 

“And. I know, Fitz. I _know_ I should’ve been honest with you. You deserved the truth. I just - you have to understand - I was wrestling with many sleepless nights and heartbreak and my personal feelings. I was discouraged. And I felt that no matter what I did - I just hurt you more. I just - I thought your best chance of healing was for you to not be around _me_.” She furiously wiped tears away from her eyes. 

“ _Jemma.”_

“I know I hurt you, Fitz. I do. But I can’t regret it. Don’t you see? I _can’t_. As painful as it was, we both needed that time apart - to - to figure out who we were as individuals. To _grow_. I - I can’t regret something that led be back to you.” 

Fitz was silent a long while, and Jemma could feel her bravado slip further and further away with each second that passed. 

“I used to see you, you know.” He spoke in a voice so quiet, she almost missed it. 

“W-what?”

“When you were gone. When you were at Hydra. I used to see you - like a - like a hallucination. You and I would have full conversations together.” 

“I - I don’t -”

“I didn’t - um - you’re being honest here, and I wanted to do the same.”

“So you’re saying my leaving caused you to hallucinate? That I’m a terrible, thoughtless -”

“Hang on. Why are _you_ getting angry?” 

“Just - I’ve had to make peace with what I did. Went all those months without you. And then to find out that I - I made it -”

“Jemma.” 

“I just - I had no idea.”

“Not something I advertise.” Fitz smiled grimly. “Look, I didn’t tell you that as a - I just - I thought you - I thought you should know.” 

“I don’t - I don’t regret what I -”

“Yeah, you mentioned tha-” 

“ _No._ Let me finish.” Jemma held up a hand, her eyes searching his imploringly. Begging him to understand. “I don’t regret what I did. I don’t. But Fitz. I am - I’m truly sorry for -”

“ _Don’t._ ” 

“For the pain I caused yo-”

“See this is why I held off telling you. I don’t need your pity.”

“ _Pity_? Fitz.”

“Look, we’re in a good place. A bet- a better place actually. It’s best that we -” 

“ _Fitz_.” He paused his stammering to look at her. “I don’t - I don’t pity you. I’ve _never_ pitied you. And if you retain anything from this - this conversation - retain _that_.” She willed him to believe her. She didn’t pity him in the slightest. She _loved_ him. 

“Look. We can continue this talk later. Over - over - _well_. You know. Just um - I need to go to Mack to see about some things.” He got up from the counter, taking his mug with him, heading towards the hallway.

“Fitz.”

He turned around and faced her with a reassuring smile. 

“We _will_ talk about this later, Jemma. I promise you, yeah? Maybe over...” He let the unsaid words hang in the air, looking meaningfully at her. 

“Yeah.” Jemma said softly. 

And once Fitz actually exited the kitchen, she smiled into her tea. 

 _Later_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So the writers insisted that there was an unwritten scene in “S.O.S. Part II″ between Fitz’s return from the aircraft carrier and Jemma being taken by the monolith where FitzSimmons have the talk. I don’t think they completely got everything settled (hence the “got a long history of unfinished conversations”), but I can totally dig they at least brought up the angst of season 2. I hope this rings realistic for everyone.


	45. And That Heart

I cannot emphasize enough how much you should listen to Disturbed’s cover of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” as you read this one. This song is so Fitz in “Laws of Nature”, it’s astounding. In fact, listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MPD5Z2u-pY). 

-

He gave her an hour. That would be enough time to let her finish up her work for the day on the monolith, and he didn’t want to seem too eager. But he caught her expression after asking her out. She tried to be reserved about it, but she looked happy. Cautiously excited. 

He was thinking Italian. After making the reservation, he went to his bunk, perusing through wearable date options. _Date options._ For so long, he had believed his affections for Jemma were unreturned. And he carried that with him. But now? Now, words like _date options_ and _reservations_ were a reality, and he kept having to reiterate that idea to himself.

 _She has feelings for you. She said it herself. Not out of pity. Not out of gratitude. Just honest, true,_ romantic _feelings for you._

Before changing into his selected outfit, he left his bunk to go find her.

_Yes. Italian sounded quite nice, actually._

-

“Play it again.” Fitz muttered through gritted teeth.

If this were a lighter matter, he’d be comparing how he sounded to that movie made in the forties that took place in a casino during World War II. It was one of his mum’s favorites, and he remembered the line clearly.

But this was not a lighter matter. And that stupid comparison was the furthest thing from his mind.

Hunter sighed. “Look, mate. We’ve watched this feed at least fifty times. Maybe we need to -”

**“Play it again.”**

-

“Maybe if I can just -”

“Fitz? Are you crazy? _No one’s_ going into that damn room.” 

“But if I could just -”

“ _No one_.” 

Fitz gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear, Mack.”

“Good.” 

-

“I know I didn’t show up both times, but I need to reserve a table under Fitz for tonight. Thanks.”

-

Fitz went to work, setting up his automated probe to detect signs of life. It had been three days. She was stuck in there. She was dying from lack of sustenance, and he needed to get her out.

Once finished, he hurried to _the room_ , opening the door.

“Dr. Fitz? What are you doing?! It’s too dangerous to -”

Fitz sighed heavily. “I’m not going inside. _See?_ Safe and sound. Which isn’t what I can say for Simmons if you don’t shut the hell up and let me work.”

He heard the lab assistant scurry away and programmed the probe to enter the room and gather composition readings of the monolith.

Anxiously, he waited. Anxiously, he stayed. Anxiously, he waited and stayed. And when the little probe came back with findings revealing the rock was rock through and through, he threw it against the wall.

He turned back to the open door, facing the monolith.

_What are you? What are you, really? Some stupid piece of rock? Well, I’ve faced bigger than stupid rocks. Let her go. Give her to me. And that’s an order._

_-_

“I know it’s been three weeks. I understand that - _yes._ Please keep the reservation under Fitz for tonight. Thanks.” 

_-_

“It’s been a month, Fitz. It’s time I make the trip to Sheffield. And I’m sure they’d feel at least a little bit of peace if you were with me.” 

“The only way I’m going to see Jemma’s parents is if she’s right beside me. Other than that, not interested. Sir _,_ I think I’ve found the answer. Please don’t make the trip yet.”

Coulson only raised an eyebrow. Skeptical. They were all skeptical of him now. He was in his own personal hell of _The Boy Who Cried Wolf_.

_The Engineer Who Cried Jemma._

Whatever. He was going to find her. He was going to find her alive. Especially because she was -

“- reduced to a microscopic level. You heard what happened at Pym Technologies.”

“Yeah. I have, but -”

“It’s a lead, sir. It’s a lead, so therefore I strongly advise against notifying her parents.”

Coulson sighed in weary agreement.

And when he sent in the probe a couple of hours later, there was no sign of microscopic life in the room. Once the probe returned to him, he threw _that_ probe against the wall.

He turned back to the open door, facing the monolith.

_What are you? What are you, really? Some bloody piece of slab just standing there except when you’re **not** and you swallow up my - well, my - that’s besides the point. Let her go. Give her to me. **Now.**_

_**-** _

“I don’t want to hear that it’s been a month and a half. Don’t you think I know that? What I _do_ want to hear is that you’re saving a table for us under Fitz for tonight. And sorry for the...well. It’s just been a long day. Thanks.” 

_**-** _

The first time he decided to take off to follow a lead, no one said anything. It had been a month and a half, and he could tell they all had given up on her. _All of them_. Like she was some - some kind of lost cause. Tragic tale. And it was sickening. Didn’t they understand that there was something else at play? That they could find her?

So he traced the origin of the monolith as far as he could go. Which is why he was currently in northern Norway, desperately trying to find out everything he could about the Adogit, a Germanic tribe that had occupied the land around the years 800 - 1200. _There_ he would find the answer. And the lot back at the Playground could sod it.

The first time he returned back to the base empty-handed, no one said anything. It had been a month and a half, and he could tell they all had given up on her. _All of them_. Like she was some - some kind of lost cause. Tragic tale.

Well, he wouldn’t accept that. He _couldn’t_ accept that. So he got back to work.

-

“Yeah, it’s me again. Yes, that’s right. Yes, under Fitz. Yes. I understand. Thanks.” 

-

“I think you’re going to like this model, sir.”

If Coulson could see the fatigue in his eyes, he didn’t acknowledge it. He simply nodded as Fitz fit a prosthetic hand on Coulson’s left arm. It was his second attempt and Coulson’s second hand and clearly the task was second on his mind. If Coulson could tell he was distracted, already planning his next excursion, he didn’t acknowledge that either.

“Thank you, Fitz. I’m sure it’s great.”

“Yeah. Let me know if you run into any complications.”

Coulson simply nodded, the fatigue in his eyes matching his own. “How’s your search going? Do you think it’s time for me to -”

“You know, you really should start practicing with that hand. Get used to the robotics of it and everything.”

“ _Fitz_.”

But he had already left the lab, refusing to allow Coulson to finish the thought. He was _not_ going to Sheffield and _Coulson_ was not going to Sheffield and _no one_ was going to Sheffield until he bloody found her. And if he could just stop being pestered with things like extra hands and new inhuman powers and _anything_ else that didn’t have to do with that _damn_ monolith, that’d be just peachy.

-

 _What are you? What are you, really? Some shitty piece of rock? That’s_ it _? What could you possibly want with Jemma? What did she ever do to you? What - did her two PhD’s threaten you? ‘Cause you’re just all brawn and solid, and she has a mind - a beautiful one - and a heart that’s -_

_What possible threat is she to you? Let her go. Give her to me. Don’t you hear me? She’s not yours._

_-_

“So, I’m going to need to go to Denmark. You can handle the going-ons in the lab, right?” 

Fitz found Bobbi in the gym, doing physical therapy for her knee. 

“I guess, but Fitz, I -”

“Great, thanks.” He didn’t even bother to stay for the rest of the answer. He was tired of the _buts_ and _are you sures_ and _whys_ and - 

 _No. Denmark_ is where he needed to be. _Denmark_ was the once home of the ancient Germanic tribe Atuatuci. _Denmark_ had the answer. 

_-_

_“_ Yes, two months is a long time, and I appreciate - yes. Under Fitz. Thanks.” 

_-_

“Beer?”

Fitz didn’t look up from the ancient text. “No thanks, Hunter. I’m working. Can’t cloud my concentration with alcohol. You know how much of a lightweight I am.”

“I don’t know, mate. You’ve been training hard in the gym. What have you put on in muscle - ten, fifteen pounds?”

“Twelve. But that’s not - why are you here, again?”

“Didn’t want to drink alone.”

Fitz paused his reading and looked up at Hunter. “Didn’t want to - since, when?”

Hunter sighed. “ _Okay_. I thought - thought you might like some company. I just - have you considered that Jemma may have not -”

“Is that what you’re here for? You and the rest of the team convinced I’m Don Quixote battling windmills? Take your beer and leave me be. She’s out there. And I _will_ find her.”

The minute Hunter left, Fitz hurled the book across the room. 

_Have you considered Jemma may have not not **not**_

He _would_ find her. He stood up and walked over to the flung book. Picking it up, he carried it back over to the desk and continued reading. 

He _would_ find her. He _ **would**_. Windmills be damned. 

-

“You’re going to France? Two and a half months of this, and now you’re going to France? What do you think is there?”

“A lead.”

“ _Fitz_.”

“Yeah, I don’t - excuse me.” He brushed past Mack, already mentally recalling as much as he could about the Hundred Years War. 

And a few days later, when he returned, the only greeting he received from Mack was a heavy sigh and a weary nod.

-

 _What are you? What are you, really? Some fucking piece of stone? A fucking stone that’s got_ everyone _around here so afraid? Afraid of what? What else could they possibly lose? We already lost her. I already lost her. There’s nothing more for me to fear. Is that what you want, you insufferable bastard? Is it? Let her go. Give her to me. I beg of you. Then maybe you might receive a healthy dose of fear from me, you coward._

_-_

_“_ Hi, can you - yes, it is. Under - yes. Yes. Thanks.” 

_-_

The plane touched down in the one country that Fitz avoided since Jemma’s disappearance. Which is why he didn’t tell Coulson he was going to England. Wouldn’t be anywhere near Sheffield anyway. In France, he learned the monolith was captured by the English before the Napoleonic Era, so there he was. 

 _England_ had the answer. England _had_ to have the answer. England was responsible for Jemma in the first place, so it was fitting that England would lead him back to her. 

England. England was the key. It had to be. It had to be. _Had to be. **Had to be.**_

 _England_.

_-_

_What are you? What are you, really? Some fucking piece of rock? Some fucking rock that won’t do a fucking thing unless it wants to? Well, you know what, you despicable, silent monster?_

_Fuck you. Fuck you, you barren, deplorable piece of shit. Fuck you for not giving her back to me. Fuck you. I’m begging you. Let her go. Give her to me. What could you possibly want with my - what, then? Go fuck yourself, you mute, stoic wanker._

_-_

“Where are you going, Fitz?”

“Worry about yourself and your inhumans, Daisy.” 

“ _Fitz_.” He stopped walking, tightening the shoulder bag, waiting impatiently. “Where are you going?”

“Got a lead on the monolith. Going to the Yucutan Peninsula.” 

“So what - you’re just going to take a quinjet and go? Coulson’s tired of you tracking down your leads. He’s not going to go for it.”

“Already cleared it with him.” 

“Already - what? What did you tell him?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll see you soon, Daisy.” He hastily brushed past her. 

“ _Fitz_.” He sighed, turning around. “Has it - um - it’s been four months, Fitz. Don’t you - don’t you think it’s time to -”

Fitz gritted his teeth. “ _ **Don’t**.”_

-

“You don’t think that I know I’ve been reserving a table for five bloody months? You don’t think it’s the first thought I have when I wake and the last thought I have before sleep? I didn’t call you to get a running count of the days. I called to make a reservation, and I’ll thank you to - sorry. Yes. Yes, thanks.”

-

“I owe you one, Bobbi.”

“You owe me more than one, Fit-” He ended the call, not waiting around to hear her continued scolding. 

“This is it,” Fitz informed the Iraqi driver. He got out of the cab, surveying his surroundings. The answer to Jemma’s whereabouts were in this establishment. He quickly ran up the steps leading to Mosul’s Central Museum.

-

He was prepared. He looked the part. He didn’t even realize that the six months of close calls and _one last leads_ and training and wardrobe transformation turned him into one of the men that he always ridiculed (yet secretly envied). He was even wearing sunglasses for Christ’s sake.

That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until. _Until._ **Until**. 

He gripped his case of “splinter bombs” tightly and hailed a town car. This was his last shot. And he would be _damned_ if he left without what he needed.

The scroll casing. _The answer._

 _Here._ **Here** is where he would find the answer _. **Here**. _

_-_

_**Death**. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. **Death**._

_Jemma’s family deserves to know...deserves to know...to **know**_

_lost my right hand...lost my...lost...lost...lost...lost...my..._

_We’ve got to accept...accept...accept..._

_to say goodbye... **goodbyegoodbyegoodbyegoodbyegoodbyegoodbye**_

**_to say goodbye. to say -_ NO.**

**NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo.**

He wouldn’t. He _couldn’t_. He just - he just - he needed to - to -

With a purposeful stride, he walked to _the room_ , grabbing a shotgun on the way. Rules and regulations and warnings and cautions and _what ifs_ be damned. He kicked open the door with fury and blasted through the lock on the monolith case with only two shots.

He was sick of showing respect to the unknown. Of backing away from the _maybes_ and potential dangers and the whole fucking lot. With great intensity, he stepped inside the case, staring down his tormentor. His foe. His greatest adversary.

_-_

_What are you? What are you, really? Some fucking piece of rock? A rock. Just a rock. Except when you’re fucking **not**. Except. Except. Except. Do you not see me? Have you no mercy? I’m pleading here. Let her go. Give her to me. And if you can’t. If that’s too much for your puny pebble brain to comprehend, then take me. Take me to her. Take me - you fucking, soulless rock. Take me. Take -_

_**“DO SOMETHING!”** _


	46. But She Saw the Flare

She wasn’t where she wanted to be. But she was content. She wasn’t home. But she was content. She wasn’t with Fitz. But she was content. She was content to live out her days with another man who wasn’t Fitz and who loved her very much. He told her that around seventy-three hours ago. After a bout of exceptionally grand lovemaking, he murmured those three words to her, stroking her hair softly.  _I_ and _love_ and _you_. He said them, and she felt them. He said them with no preamble. No expectations. Just wanted her to know.

_I love you, too_ her heart whispered back. She couldn’t say it, and he didn’t ask her to say it, and she feared that he still thought of himself as her consolation prize, and she sometimes feared that he was right. He wasn’t _F -_ but he _was_ **Will** , and she fell in love with this brave, lonely, doomed man who saved her and gave her - gave her -

She lost hope. She did. She remembered the exact moment - could pinpoint the exact millisecond it happened. The shards of glass from the bottle so aptly representing the shards of her heart, shattering with the firm knowledge that she _would.never.see. **him**.again. _

She was broken, and Will was broken, and together, they tried to put their pieces in places that didn’t quite fit but were good enough. More than good enough. They were making a home out of hell, and it worked. They worked. 

She was almost _happy_ when they gathered a picnic to watch the sunrise. If she was to be stuck on this planet for the rest of her days, she was lucky to have him by her side. They joked about the awful wine and could barely contain their excitement to see the actual sun, and -

**_FITZ._ **

**_FitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitzFitz._ **

_A **FLARE.**_

_It had to be. Had to be. Had to be. Had to be. **Had to be.**_

Without a second thought - without a look back - she started running. She ran toward the blessed light.

_FITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZ_

She could barely make out footsteps behind her and was thankful Will was following her. 

_**THEY WERE GOING HOME.** _

**_HOME._ **

**_HOME._ **

**_HOME._ **

She stopped at the figure before her, delirious with excitement. Confused and not confused with what she was seeing. She called out to Will, informing him it was actually someone from his team, not hers. Will’s voice responded, panicked. 

_Don’t trust it_

**_Don’t trust it_ **

**_DON’T TRUST IT._ **

Letting the words register within, she fled the monster, finding Will. He told her to run. Run. 

Run. 

_**Run.** _

_You can make it._

And he was gone. He was gone. He was gone, and she was there, and _could it possibly be F -_ she saw it. She _felt_ it. And _**Will**. _ And a gun - a _gunshot_. 

WILL. 

_WILL._

**_NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo._ **

**_WILL._ **

“ _Jemma!_ ” 

...

**IT WAS.**

**_FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZ. FITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZFITZ_ **

She waited for Will - but only for a few moments - it was all she could afford. Because _**FITZ** was **HERE**. _ And he was calling her. His voice a guide to home that she never thought she’d hear again. A voice that she only heard from a recorded birthday greeting for so long. A voice her heart - her soul - her whole being recognized fully and immediately and elatedly and - 

“Fitz! _Fitz!_ ” 

She battled the sand storm and the blue and the sound of the gunshot and thought of leaving Will behind. She followed the voice. _His_ voice.

_Got to get to Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fi-_

And then she saw him. He was - he - he - he - was -

**_Fitz._ **

Still calling for her, reaching out for her. Rescuing her. 

_He found a way._ He found a way, and suddenly everything else faded away from her except his hand, outstretched, the promise of home and safety and **love** seeping through this fingers. 

She willed her arm to grow longer - and maybe it did - because she still hadn’t fully reached him, but she could just - _just barely - just a little bit - a **little** -_

She almost wept at the connection. For Leopold Fitz, the man she loved, the man she thought she’d never see again, her soulmate, her best friend, her _everything_ was holding on to her, holding her hand. 

When suddenly - he _wasn’t._

**_NO._ **

**_NONONNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO._ **

For whatever reason, their connection was broken, and he was taken away from her, and -

**NOT. THIS. TIME.**

She trudged through the cursed sand of the cursed planet, using her fury to help her reach him again.

**_You will NOT take him from me again. You hear me? What are you? What are you, really? Some fucking planet that’s kept me separated from home and_ FITZ _? I will be your prisoner no longer._**

She saw him - she **saw** him - again and coherent thought left her. His hand remained outstretched (his hand was _always_ outstretched to her), reaching. 

_Reaching. Reaching for her._

His hand promising safety and home and _**love**_ and **_love_  **and **_love._**

**_LOVE._ **

She gripped it, willing the planet to **do. its. fucking. worse.**

She held onto his hand, and he held onto hers, and they held onto each other. Gripping hands and gripping hearts and gripping everything in between. They moved as one to the portal opening that she could just make out amidst the sand and the wind and the blue. 

She refused to let go of him, and he refused to let of her, and they refused to let go of each other. _**Fitz.**_

They made it to the portal, still holding on, still not letting go of one another, and he wrapped her into his arms, and she held on tight, and together they - 

-

The first thing she registered was rocks. Small rocks pelting her and cushioning her and digging into her and suffocating her - suffocating -

She couldn’t breathe. She was drowning in rocks, and then two strong arms lifted her, rescued her, saved her, freed her from the rocks and the sand and the planet and the blue and the endless night and she sputtered, coughing, her chest tight, her lungs tight. 

She squinted at the searing light penetrating her eyes. Could barely make out figures, staring at her, mouths agape. She thought she saw Coulson and maybe Skye and perhaps - the strong arms holding her slightly tightened, and she looked back at her savior, her hero, her _-_ her - 

“ _ **Fitz.** ”_

She would’ve stayed in his arms forever. She nestled into his chest, his neck, his shoulder, and he held her firmly to him, shielding her from everything. Shielding her from the hellish planet. Shielding her from pain. From heartbreak. From doom. She was _safe_. She was _home._ She was _loved._

She heard voices. Did they have to scream so loud? She burrowed into Fitz, trying to block out the sound. 

“Get them back up here.” Coulson. But why was he screeching? Why was he - 

-

She woke up on a hospital bed, blinking slowly, the light blinding her. A figure was seated in front of her, _Fitz_ , staring at her in disbelief and elation and _**love** , _and she stared right back. 

Through broken bits of husky dialogue, Fitz informed her that she had passed out moments after they made it back through the portal. She nodded, barely registering the dull ache the small movement caused. She suddenly felt very, very tired. 

She saw tears in his eyes as he murmured, “I just - I can’t - can’t believe you’re really -”

-

She woke up this time in the padded room, a horrific dream frightening her awake. About the planet and the blue and the sand and the wind and _It_ and _Will_ , and before she even fully registered where she was, she had her little makeshift weapon poised in front of her, ready to strike. But there was no need.

She was _safe_. She was _home_. And she glanced around the room, instantly finding _Fitz_ , slumped against the wall next to her bed. Sleeping. 

_**Fitz**. _

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a - wasn’t - 

He _rescued_ her. He _**found**_ her. 

**_Fitz._ **

She didn’t think. She didn’t ponder. She didn’t weigh the possible outcomes. She just followed basic instinct and left her bed so that she could - so that she could -

**_Fitz._ **

Lying down on the floor, she rested her head on his thigh, gripping the space just above his knee with her hand, wanting to feel him. Feel all of him. She went for a very long time without him, and she’d be _damned_ if she had to spend her first night _home_ without -

Already, her heart felt lighter, and the terrifying dream and the terrifying _everything else_ just...his presence, his steady breath, his _ **love**  _made her - she was _**home**_. She was _home_ , and she had _**Fitz**_ , because he found a _way_ , and she allowed the quiet, comforting sounds of his steady breathing and his beating heart to sing her to sleep. 

-

“J - Jemma.” 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she felt stiff everywhere. 

She realized she was lying on the floor in a cramped up position, her head on Fitz - _Fitz -_

_**Fitz.** _

Tentative fingers stroked her hair softly, and she closed her eyes briefly, savoring the touch. 

She reluctantly lifted her head from his warmth, from his comfort, and slowly sat up, bracing herself by placing her hands on the floor. Turning to face him, she tried to focus her blurry vision. 

“Sor - sorry. I just - you were here, and I didn’t want -”

“ _Jemma.”_ Fitz reached for her, a question in his eyes, and she nodded ever so slightly. He scooted closer to her and held her hand, his thumb moving in soothing circles. “It’s okay. I didn’t - I didn’t mind. I just figured that - well, Bobbi’s going to be round soon to give you another vitals check, so I wanted to be sure you were up for - for that.” 

“Right. Yes - yes, of course.” She was captivated by his gaze - a gaze full of longing and joy and weariness and _**love** \- _ and she felt a pang of remorse and guilt. 

He _never_ gave up on her. That much was clear. But she gave up. Gave up hope of ever seeing him again. Allowed herself to love again. 

But her love for Will didn’t diminish her love for - for _Fitz_. Not in the slightest. Not in the very least. 

And now that she was back, holding his hand, staring into the comforting blue of his eyes, basking in his quiet, steady smile, she felt more for him than ever before. 

_**I love you.** _

Her heart whispered the words. To Will. To Fitz. To Will. To Fitz. To Will. To Fitz. 

To Fitz. 

_To Fitz._

**_Fitz._ **

**_Fitz._ **

She tightened her grip on his hand and leaned her head onto his shoulder, taking him in, breathing in his scent.

**_FITZ._ **

She was where she wanted to be. And she was content. She was home. And she was content. She wasn’t with Will. But she was content. 

She would figure it out. She would. She would figure out the _Will_ and the _Fitz_ of it all. But for now, she was home. For now, she nestled into Fitz’s side. 

For now, she was content. 


	47. So Much

He held her firmly. It was a lovely restaurant and a lovely gesture and a lovely table with lovely flowers, and it was all just - he was _just -_

The minute she saw the…

_Wine. I’d kill for a glass of wine._

_Can’t vouch for the year, but I do know it pairs well with roots and moss._

_There’s that hope again._

_You can make it. Go. Go, Jemma!_

She _couldn’t_. What _right_ did she have to drink wine at a fancy restaurant with Fitz while _he_ was back on the planet or _worse…_

What _right_ did she have to enjoy herself when nothing but sacrifices by the men she loved were made to ensure her safety and comfort? 

What _**right**_? 

Will went to battle, fighting _It_ for her, and Fitz dove through a hole in the universe for her, and it was all so - _so_

Who was she? What made her worthy of such acts of valor? 

And how could she possibly tell Fitz about - about _Wi -_ when _all he’s done_ is search for her for six months. She heard all about his reckless searches and sleepless nights. Bobbi told her. Coulson told her. Mack told her. Did they think she was daft? 

Fitz’s love and devotion to her wasn’t new. But couldn’t he see that she didn’t deserve it? Any of it? 

And now after all these months of being separated from him and thinking she would never _ever_ see him again…she was with him. He was holding her, and she relaxed into his embrace, and when did things get so damn complicated? 

She wept.

She wept for her astronaut, and she wept for Fitz’s heroism, and she wept for her betrayal to both men, and she wept for ruining Fitz’s gesture, and she wept, and she wept, and she wept.

And he just sat there, holding her. Exuding patience and light and _love_ and - 

“We can just go…if you’d like,” Fitz murmured into her hair, sending a chill and warmth through her at the same time. 

She held onto his hand more tightly. “No - no - this place is so nice, and you went to all this trouble, and -” 

“ _Jemma_.” She lifted her head to look at him, wiping her eyes, sniffling. “You think I care at all about a bloody restaurant? If you’re not - if you’re not feeling up to it, let’s just go. It’s okay. We’ll do this another time, yeah?” 

Jemma nodded, her eyes downcast. 

He stood up from his seat, breaking the contact, and she wished he could keep holding her. He found a way, right? He found a way and brought her back. So surely he could find a way to ease her guilt. To ease the hurt. To heal her. 

He carried his chair back to its original spot and then offered a hand to her which she clung to with one, and she grabbed his forearm with the other. He gave her a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and she felt simply awful.

He had kept a reservation for six bloody months. All because he never gave up hope. Knew he would find her. And then when he realized her senses were painfully susceptible to her surroundings, he made sure the place was empty for them. And how does she repay him? Stupid tears and guilt and sorrow. 

They walked past the waiter who gave them a confused look. 

“We’re going to go now, actually. Thank you for everything.” Fitz’s voice was low, and Jemma never felt more like a child. 

“Of course,” the waiter said graciously. 

Fitz let go of her hands to open the door leading out of the restaurant for her, and once they were both outside, he softly grabbed her hand again. 

“I really do appreciate the gesture, Fitz. The place was quite lovely.” 

Fitz squeezed her hand warmly in response. 

They walked to the car that Coulson had lent to Fitz, and Fitz unlocked the vehicle, opening the passenger door for her and shutting it once she was inside. As he made his way over to the driver’s side, Jemma racked her brain, wondering what she could say to make things right. 

Why couldn’t she just pretend that everything was alright now that she was back where she belonged? With Fitz? Why couldn’t she have faked being happy and appreciative and -

Fitz settled into his seat, closing his door, and started the car. 

Jemma sighed. 

They didn’t speak the entire ride back to base. 


	48. What Just Happened?

She wants to rebuild the portal. 

_She wants to rebuild the portal?_

**She. wants. to. rebuild. the. portal.**

The portal that took her away from him. That swept her away to another planet for six months. The very same portal where she was completely alone, relying on her beautiful strength and resourceful nature. 

_WHY?_

After all he had done to get her back. After all the trauma she went through. What could possibly -

Was she not happy here? Was it a strange sort of Stockholm Syndrome to where she felt drawn to the planet? She talked about fear. She talked about being hunted. She struggled through the sandstorm and the wind and the blue to reach for his hand. He didn’t imagine that. She looked so relieved. So at peace in his arms. 

So. 

_Why, then?_

He thought he was doing everything right. Offering his assistance whenever she needed it. Bringing her her favorite tea (with a splash of milk, of course). Running extensive diagnostics on the portal remains to ensure it never opened again. Giving her space when he realized their date was too much for her. And you know… _rescuing_ her from the blue planet of death. 

Not that he did any of that for her to fall into his arms out of gratitude, kissing his face all over. He wasn’t a _complete_ ass. He brought her back to him more for _him_ than anything else. He went months without her when she left for Hydra, and those months nearly broke him. They both proved they could survive without the other. But he had come to realize that he simply didn’t want to. She was every bit a part of him as much as any limb was. 

And she was grateful to be back…right? To be at his side again. To be at his side where they had time to discuss the _more thans_ and the _maybes_ and begin the terrifying start of something _different_. This is what she wanted. He was so sure of it. He was certain that…

**Or.**

Did he really fuck everything up by bringing her home? 

There had to be an explanation for her notes. Something that he wasn’t seeing, _couldn’t_ see, that revealed her reasoning for her monolith research. Some revelation that didn’t involve her planning to return to her prison of six months. 

There had to be. 

_There had to be._

It was the only thought that reverberated through his brain as he fixed her tea, preparing to confront her once and for all. 

**There. had. to. be.**


	49. I Understand Everything

A/N: Full disclosure, but the minute I started to write this one, I teared up. Also, I know this is totally _A Walk to Remember_ of me, but I highly recommend you listen to "[Dare You to Move](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Qbnsk2_F5g)" by Switchfoot as you read this one.

-

Of course.

_Of course._

_**OF FUCKING COURSE.** _

Who was he to get angry? Who even was he to -

 _GOD._ Of _course_ she would fall for the guy. And there was no way in _hell_ he would separate her from her astronaut boyfriend just because of his petty feelings.

Will and Jemma were a fucking Shakespearean play. Romeo and Juliet. Separated by the universe and edges of nowhere, yet holding on to their connection and _true love_ and -

He’d be _damned_ if he got in the middle of that.

Boy, was he pathetic. A bloody chump. Bloody chump who thought he had a bloody shot. Thought she may have dreamed of him _every time_ she sleptlike he did of her - that is - when he actually _did_ sleep. 

And maybe she did. Maybe she did for a week or two when she was terribly alone and afraid. Maybe she did...but it didn’t matter. Because she found love in a different fucking solar system, and if that wasn’t _true love_ and _fate_ and the stuff of _romantic destiny..._

How could he be angry at such a beautiful story? He couldn’t fault Jemma. He couldn’t fault Will. No one was to blame. Life happened and _love_ happened, and it would be selfish of him to resent the poor guy, wouldn’t it? The guy literally had nothing but Jemma. He was stuck on a desert planet, and he had absolutely no reason to be envious. What kind of person reacts with jealousy after hearing of such misfortune? 

But he was. Jealous. _Oh_ , how he was. Because Will knew what it was like to have Jemma’s heart. _Really_ have it. And Will knew what it was like to _hold_ her and _kiss_ her and - _and -_

_**I never would’ve survived without him.** _

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? He was hurt that she turned to another, but if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be facing the crying mess that she was just then, now would he? _Beautiful_ crying mess, of course, but crying mess all the same.

He would do anything for her. He would do anything, and he’d done everything, and this was the next _anything_ she needed.

Rescuing her stranded boyfriend.

-

Fitz gritted his teeth, determined to find out all he could about monoliths and portals and space rocks and desert planetsand all of it. Like he hadn’t been poring over the research for six fucking months.

In a sudden bout of frustration, he hurled his binder towards the entrance of the lab.

“ _Bloody hell_! Trying to take an eye out there, Fitz?” 

Fitz only rolled his eyes once he saw Hunter making his way towards him unscathed and went back to work.

“Don’t mind me. Merely got decked from one of your outbursts, but no matter. Hey, wait - those tantrums only happen when Simmons is...”

Fitz sighed wearily, rubbing his temple, gesturing with his other hand to the computer screen in front of him.

“Are you _mental_? What in God’s name would possess you to keep researching the -”

“She wasn’t alone, Hunter.”

At Hunter’s confused look, Fitz continued. “She wasn’t alone on the planet. Well, at least - for five months of it.”

“Okay,” Hunter said slowly. “I feel like there’s more to -” 

“An astronaut saved her. She lived with him for months. And - _they -”_

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re telling me that Simmons met a guy on another planet, and now she - what? Wants to rescue him too?”

“That’s the bloody gist, yeah.”

Hunter let out a low whistle, pulling up a chair next to Fitz. “And when you say ‘lived with him’ - do you mean...?” Hunter looked at him meaningfully with an expression that made Fitz physically sick, and it must’ve been all over his face, because Hunter didn’t press into _that_ any further.

“Alright, mate. That settles it. We need a beer.”

Fitz was about to protest - he still had tests to run and exiled boyfriends to -

 _Sod it._ A beer sounded fucking amazing.

“More like four beers if I’m being completely honest.” 

“That’s the spirit.” 

-

He thought about them when he was alone in his bunk. Alone with his sick mind and dark thoughts. He didn’t want to - he’d been tortured enough, thanks - but he couldn’t stop the intruding thoughts from taking over his psyche.

He thought of them being domestic, trying to survive in a world stacked against them. He thought of Jemma tending to Will’s wounds, and he thought of Will encompassing Jemma in great big bear hugs, and he thought of Jemma cooking for Will - _no_. Jemma was never one for basic gender stereotypes. He thought of them cooking _together_ , side-by-side. Laughing and joking and smiling as if they _weren’t_ living on Hell for months and months.

He thought of Jemma telling Will all about her family, and he thought of Will telling Jemma all about his. He thought of Will touching Jemma’s face, placing that always stubborn, defiant strand of hair behind her ear. He thought of Jemma massaging Will’s shoulders after an exceptionally taxing day of escaping death. He thought of them curled up next to each other in a shared bed, revealing their inmost thoughts and dreams and hopes. They were so _sweet_ , he was actually going to be sick.

He thought of them making love (not in _that_ way - he wasn’t a pervert). That’s the only way he could phrase it, really. _Making - making_ **love**. He was sure it wasn’t just sex. Wasn’t simply a solution to their basic, animalistic instincts. It was _passion_ and _tenderness_ and **love** and - _and -_

Of _course_ it was fucking **love** _._ Of _course_ it was. Who else would Jemma fall for but a strong, smart, fearless, older, selfless, heroic astronaut who clearly adored her and worshipped her and loved her?

Which is why he was doing everything he could to bring back her star-crossed lover.

And once again, another unwelcome quote from that _damn_ film about the casino and Morocco (where he happened to have visited recently, of course. Facing near misses and gunshots and extremists and badly spoken Arabic was hard to forget) and _play it, Sams_. 

_“It doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to...”_

_God,_ he really _hated_ that bloody movie.

-

He was fixing himself some tea when he saw her timidly hesitate in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Did you want...?” He gestured towards the tea kettle.

“If it’s not too much -” 

“No, of course not. There’s extra in here.” He set about grabbing another mug, throwing a tea bag in it, and pouring the rest of the already hot water into the cup. 

“And can I have just a splash -” 

“- of milk,” Fitz chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head as he got out a carton of milk from the refrigerator, pouring _just a splash_ in the mug and then stirring gently. “You act as if I’ve never prepared tea for you before.” 

Jemma laughed nervously. It was a forced laugh. Everything about them lately was forced, it seemed. “Right. I just know how you like heaping spoonfuls of -”

“ _Heaping_? Hardly. You just wouldn’t know a good cuppa tea if it bit you in the -”

“Ask me how many spoonfuls I -”

“We can go round and round with this, Jemma, but you know I’m right.” 

Jemma smiled. A true smile. A smile that wasn’t forced or pained or polite. Just a genuine, warm smile. And he returned that smile with one of his own to match. The air between them turned electric, and he could tell the friendly banter was paving the way for something - something _else._

“So. How is - how is the portal simulation going?”

 _Of_ course. 

Of course she’d prefer to be with her astronaut hero boyfriend on the nothing planet than to bicker with him about tea. He tried to prevent the smile from sliding off his face. He really did. But it was no use. They were stuck in this relationship _limbo_ where his feelings for her were as prevalent and strong as ever, and hers were... _well_. She was currently asking for continued help for her space boyfriend, so that answered that. 

Fitz cleared his throat. “No new readings yet. But I’m hopeful.”

Jemma nodded, and there was that other smile. The one he absolutely detested. The one she used when she was purposely walking on eggshells, avoiding confrontation, being cordial. He _hated_ that smile. Especially when it was directed at him.

“Thank you, Fitz. I’d - um - well, I’d love to look at it with you at some point when you have the time.”

“Sure, Jemma.” He handed her her tea and received a mumbled _thanks_ , and he slipped past her, wanting to be anywhere but in that kitchen with her. 

He _really, really_ hated that smile.

-

He thought about what it would be like to actually meet him. Would he rescue him and then punch him on sight? Of course not. He was a grown man, and that was a childish scenario. Would he rescue him and then after a week or two, sit him down and have the “I _swear,_ if you hurt her -” talk? Possibly. Would he rescue him and then express sincere gratitude for keeping his J - well, not _his_ \- Jemma alive? Absolutely. Would he inwardly be seething and envious and heartbroken as he stared into the face of Jemma’s lover in any scenario?

Without a fucking doubt.

-

What did Jemma even know about the guy, anyway? She hadn’t known him for twelve fucking years, that was for sure. He paused the set-up of a new portal simulation and began the process of finding anything and everything he could of one Will Daniels.

There had to be _something._ No one was that perfect or good or strong or heroic or blameless or...

 _Something._ Something that showed Will’s true colors. _Anything_.

They’d been blindsided before, right? What with Garrett being the Clairvoyant and Ward being the worst person to ever live and half of S.H.I.E.L.D. actually being Hydra, and there was the brief timeframe where they couldn’t trust Bobbi or Mack or Weaver or Gonzales.

So _surely_ , it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for Will to be dirty, too.

_...Right?_

_-_

“Hey Turbo, how’ve you been?” 

“Been fine, and would be _even_ better if -” _Wait a minute_. Mack’s tone was far too sensitive to be considered - he grimaced. “Hunter told you then, did he?”

“Come on. You know as well as I do that the man can’t keep anything to himself when alcohol is involved.” 

Fitz sighed in defeat.

“So, I’m asking you again, Fitz. How are you?”

“How I am hinges on whether I can get this bloody portal simulation to work or not. The rest of it doesn’t matter.”

“How you can even say that when -”

“It _doesn’t_ matter, Mack,” Fitz snapped. He was so bloody _tired_ of his friends stopping by to offer their...their _what_? Condolences? Sympathy? Words of encouragement? _Jemma_ was the one they should focus on. _Jemma_ was the one who was _literally_ alienated from civilization for six bloody months. _Jemma_ was the one who had no idea whether the love of her life was alive or dead.

“Okay,” Mack threw his hands up in surrender. “Just - if you need to talk about it -” 

“I don’t.”

“- _if_ you do, you know I’m here, don’t you, buddy?” 

“Yeah, I do. Thanks, Mack.” He refocused his attention on the screen in front of him, a signal that Mack seemed to pick up on as he left him to his work.

 _Jemma_ was the one who broke his heart.

-

He thought about them when he was alone in his bunk. Alone with his sick mind and dark thoughts. He didn’t want to - he’d been tortured enough, thanks - but he couldn’t stop the intruding thoughts from taking over his psyche.

**_I never would’ve survived without him._ **

Didn’t she get it? Didn’t she _know_? 

This man, this astronaut, this _hero_ , deserved to come back to Earth to be with her. Because Will did the one thing he could never, ever repay. 

He saved Jemma’s life. Which, in turn, saved his very own. 

-

A/N: If you want to catch a glimpse of Jemma’s perspective during “4,722 Hours’, read [That's a Little More than a Best Friend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7223809) - a ficlet response to Team Engineering’s challenge “What Leopold Fitz, Engineer Extraordinaire, Means to Me”. 


	50. Not Even a Question

And once again, Jemma fell deeper and deeper for one Leopold Fitz. 

When she thought he was avoiding her, stumbling over his words, she figured he didn’t want to help her anymore. And why would he? She didn’t blame him. It was a pretty insensitive thing for her to ask of him. She knew he had feelings for her - _loved_ her even - and all she could do in return was ask him to help her get her boyfriend back.

And yet. He did it. Without preamble. Without argument. With precise focus. With unwavering determination. He resolved to get him back, and that’s what he was doing, and if she didn’t already love - 

And that was the sticking point, right? She felt a certain loyalty to Will - a duty - to give him a chance at life _not_ on a soul-sucking planet. And there’s no doubt in her mind of her feelings for him. And she would love nothing more than to share life on _this_ planet with him.

But then. That wasn’t entirely true, now was it? She didn’t know if she would love nothing more to spend her days with Will by her side. Had she been so quick to forget how long it actually took her to open her heart to him after so many months of clinging to the idea, the dream, the _hope_ of -

She wished she could tell Fitz that part. How she needed to wish him goodnight every time right before she fell asleep. How she coped with being alone for a month by recording voice messages for him. How even after she met Will, she still talked to Fitz out loud - enough to the point that Will called her out on it on more than a couple of occasions. She claimed that it helped her concentrate, helped her focus, but the explanation was weak at best…and they both knew it.

She wished she could show him the video recording she made when she thought she wasn’t going to make it - thought she was going to die from dehydration. If she told him all this now, would he really believe her? How could she express to him how much he meant to her? How much she _loved_ him when they were both working tirelessly to rescue her boyfriend? He would think that whatever statements of affection she said to him would be solely out of pity. Consolation _I love you_ s in order to express her gratitude and ease her guilt from hurting him.

She _couldn’t_. She wouldn’t do that to him. She knew she hurt him. It hurt her too. Did he not understand how much it was killing her to not fall into his embrace and _show_ him how much he meant to her? Did he not understand that it pained her to respectfully keep her distance when all she wanted to do was just -

A handhold here. An arm squeeze there. And that was it. That was all. After all they’d been through, after all they’ve said to each other, after all they’ve done for each other…

But, no. Fitz was being the hero, once more, by sacrificing his needs and wants for the good of hers. And it frightened her and it hardened her and it strengthened her and it astounded her.

She loved him. But her main focus and his main focus and their main focus was to get Will back. Because she loved Will too. So until they saved her boyfriend from the fourteen and a half year hell he had endured…

She loved him. That much was evident. That much was true. She loved him and was in love with him, and - for now - she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.


	51. When I Said All Those Things

He got to work right away, taking apart the phone, mixing a solution for the SIM card, hooking up wires. It took very little time, and the first thing he heard was Coulson, May, and Skye.

**“Happy Birthday, Jemma.”  
**

**“Happy Birthday, Jemma. It’s not the same without you here. Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me, and I’ll see you soon.”**

He forgot about that video that he and Coulson insisted on making. He still believed she was back at Sheffield at the time, and he can remember missing her terribly. 

They recorded that video only months after his injury, so he had spent all day practicing those three simple sentences over and over until he could say them without stuttering. Without hesitation. It had been a painstakingly taxing ordeal, and he had grown to loathe those three sentences with every fiber of his being. Even threw a hairbrush at his mirror out of frustration at one point. 

A majority of the practicing was spent in his bunk, away from the others. But when it came time to actually film the video, he had to go through seven takes until he could say the words perfectly. _Seven_. And those _looks_. Looks of pity and sympathy and pained encouragement and _take your times_. That was the worst bit. So when he finally said the greeting correctly, he was completely relieved, and watching the video now, he could see a bit of that relief on his face. 

He had to admit. He was touched that she had kept the video on her phone. He knew her well enough to know that she was very meticulous and pragmatic and picky with what she allowed on her phone long term. And he had sent her that video well over a year ago. He wondered if she had watched it more than once. While working undercover at Hydra, maybe. In her bunk after one of their heated disagreements, perhaps. Maybe even on Mav-

He clicked out of the video, eager to catch a glimpse of her time on the planet. Of what she went through and what she discovered. 

The first picture was terrifying and astounding to see. 

“ _Wow_. Two moons - _bloody_ _hell_.” Not for the first time was he completely stunned that Jemma had lived there - a planet with two moons - nothing they’d ever seen before - for six whole months. 

The next picture was a selfie of Jemma, and Fitz was overcome with a sudden flood of affection for her. She was basically sentenced to die on the unknown planet, and yet, she was still smiling. Still optimistic. Still as beautiful as ever. 

Next was another snapshot of the two moons, and he didn’t think he would ever get over seeing the terrible majesty of Jemma’s environment. He waited for the following picture to upload, and when it did - 

Of course. 

_Of course._

_**OF FUCKING COURSE.** _

He bristled at the image of Jemma and Will.

 _Nope_. 

**_Nope._ **

Couldn’t she see that he could only endure so much? He wasn’t ready to see more Will or hear more Will or anything _Will._ Slamming his fist on the desk, he smacked the tub of tools off of it and shot up from his chair, walking rapidly towards the lab’s exit.

He _couldn’t_. 

He would do anything for her. He would do anything, and he had done everything, and this was the next _anything_ she required, and it was all. too. fucking. much.

**“Fitz.”**

Her voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned around to see the audio playing on the screen. 

**“It’s possible I’m on one of the poles, but it’s strange. The stars and the two moons keep disappearing and reappearing.”**

He was drawn to her voice, as if in a trance. He slowly walked back to the screen. 

**"But there’s no sun. There’s never a sun.”**

_Never a sun._ He couldn’t even imagine...she must’ve been...

Sitting, he continued to click each voice recording. 

**“The average person can live up to three weeks without food but only one hundred hours without water. I’m sorry, Fitz. I can’t wait here any longer. But if you do show up while I’m away, you’ll know where to find me.”  
**

He wondered what she meant by that. Did she leave some sort of marker? Some sort of clue for him? 

And he was stunned by her faith in him. There was confidence in her tone as she spoke. Confidence that he would find a way. And it - 

The recordings almost all addressed him, he started to realize. 

**“You’d be so proud of me, Fitz. I** **killed the monster plant, and then I made a fire, cooked him, and ate him.”**

_That’s his girl._ Well, not really _his_ girl - what he meant was - 

**“Wish you could’ve been here. Actually, no I don’t. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”**

If _only_ he could’ve been there. His heart ached that she faced so many horrors without him by her side. She was strong, and she was resilient, and she survived the alien planet, but she must’ve been so...

**“Everyone always said we could read each other’s minds, Fitz.”**

_It’s like you’re psychically linked._

Skye’s early assessment of them was spot on, and he couldn’t believe it took him years to -

**“So I really need you to read mine right now.”**

Except they weren’t _really_ psychically linked, now were they? Because if they actually had been what everyone teased them about, he would’ve heard her cry of help. Sensed her location. And would’ve rescued her 4,722 hours earlier. 

**“I’m alive. But I’m terribly alone and afraid.”**

He felt his heart break a little. She sounded so small. So scared. So lonely. 

**“So I really need you to come and get me, okay?”**

If only he could’ve.

_If only..._

**“I know you won’t give up, so I won’t either.”**

And there was that unwavering faith in him. He didn’t give up. And she resolved not to either. And together, on opposite sides of the universe, they had that much in common. 

**“You’ll notice I’m giving less updates to conserve battery power.”**

Boy, was he ever glad he lengthened her battery power when he did. 

**“Been on this stupid planet for a month now, and I lost my way to the entry point. I need to find -”  
**

He wondered what occurred to interrupt her update. 

_Wait._

A _month_. 

That must’ve been when she - when she met - 

**“It’s been three weeks, Fitz. If I don’t find something, if I don’t eat, I won’t make it.”**

It pained him to picture her starving, wondering if she was going to make it out alive. Not seeing any vegetation or potential sustenance. _Three weeks_ without food. How many times did she think her next update could’ve been her last? He didn’t want to even - 

**“Fitz, hi.”**

His thoughts were interrupted by - well...by _her_. She was staring at him and talking to him through the computer screen.

It was strangely - strangely _intimate_. 

He scooted forward a bit more to watch her.

**“I don’t know why I’m still talking to you.”**

And _that - that_ was something he could definitely relate to.

**“Why I’m recording myself.** **You’re never going to see this, are you?”**

Despair seeped out of her, and tears sprung to his eyes, watching the woman he loved record what she truly believed to be her last video - her last message to him. Watching the woman he loved believe she would never see him again.

 It was all just too much. 

**“I still haven’t found water, and it’s - um - well, I - it’s - uh - I’m having trouble focusing, and I’m trying to stay positive.”**

Her words came out in short bursts - unconnected dialogue - and she looked fatigued, and it killed him - it was _haunting_  to watch. 

**“But I’m scared. I’m scared, Fitz.”**

The tears started to multiply, and parts of his heart cracked with the intensity. She sounded so helpless, and what he would’ve _given_ to have found her sooner. To have found her before she felt the need to record a _last_ video, and to have found her before she genuinely believed she was going to _die -_ and - 

**“Do you remember when we first met?”**

_Of course_ he did. If she only knew...

**“I do.”**

His heart involuntarily swelled at the certainty in her tone. 

**“You were so quiet and pasty -”**

Of _course_. Had to throw in _pasty_ even in her - 

**“- and - so incredibly smart, handsome.”**

_Handsome?_

He knew she had feelings for him at some point. They broached the subject right before she - 

But he didn’t know that she thought him handsome even back then. When he was sixteen and achingly shy and all limbs and gawky and - 

**“Quite a strange feeling, isn’t it? Never wanting to be without someone?”**

_He_ knew the feeling all too well, but was that - 

Was that how she saw it, too?

**“You must have been so annoyed - me following you around all the time.”**

“No. _Never_.” He was openly crying at this point, sniffling and wiping away his tears. 

And here he thought _he_ was the annoying one. The moment they forged a partnership - a _friendship -_ in the lab, he wanted nothing more than to spend all his time with her. Which struck him as odd - even back then - because he was such a loner before - _before_ - 

And to find out - for her to say -

_She felt the same._

_She felt the same._

_She felt -_

**“I imagine our dinner sometimes - where we’d go, what we’d eat.”**

_If only, Jemma. If only - if only - if only - if only -_

**“I wonder about us a lot, actually.”**

_Did she just -_  

Was this her way of telling him that her feelings might’ve been -

**“There’s this small cottage in Perthshire we drove by once when I was a girl some - some family holiday - and I don’t know why, but I - I found it so lovely. A place where you and I could’ve...”**

_Was she - was she saying -_

She _wondered_ about them and _imagined_ their dinner and - _and -_

Did she just confess to him that he pictured them _settling down_ together? After S.H.I.E.L.D. and after more adventures and after all of the -

Did she just reveal that at the end of it all, she wanted to remain at his side? _Mar - marry_ him even? 

Was he - was he wrong about her feelings? 

But - but she never - she never said anything to that extent. 

Never _said_ - 

**“But that’s that, I suppose.”**

_No._

Not _that’s that._

This was so much _more_ than _that’s that._

**“I’m not sure how long this battery will last. I should save it, just in case. For more important things than this...anything.”**

His heart broke for her again and again and again. 

**“But I’ll still talk to you on my own, if that’s alright.”**

Did - _did_ she? When she was alone, and when she wasn’t alone, did she talk to him? Was he her place of comfort, her _harbor_ , her steady rhythm as she was his all those months ago? 

**“I’ll always be with you, Fitz.”**

He sat there. His face buried in his hands.

Stunned. 

It was all just too much. 

The inner, dark parts of him had been convinced that her feelings for him were skin deep at best - what else would they have been if she was able to  -

But as he watched her pour her heart out to him - at her most vulnerable - he realized he was a bloody idiot, once again.

Her feelings for him ran deeper than he had ever dared to dream. 

He loved her, and he was in love with her, and there was a chance - a _hope_ \- that she felt the same. 

But - _for now_ \- he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 


	52. The Bloody Cosmos

_Nope._

Jemma and Will weren’t the star-crossed lovers that he had thought they were. And that was saying something what with Will being in another solar system and all. 

It was actually he and Jemma that were the real Shakespearean play. Tragic. Hopeless. Destined to be separated. 

And she was bloody right next to him. 

Except when she wasn’t. Except when she was _yelling_ at him for helping her and storming out of the room. Except then.

**What. the. fuck. did. she. want. from. him.?**

He would do anything for her, and he had done everything, and this was the next _anything_ she required. 

And she responded with an angry retort and an exit, abandoning him to research how to rescue her beloved all by himself. 

**What. gave. her. the. bloody. right.?**

She _wanted_ his help, right? She told him that before she broke his heart with the truth. It was all permanently etched in his brain. Every single fucking thing she told him that night. 

So for her to - 

**Where. did. she. get. off.?**

- 

And then they were flat out screaming at each other. The air between them crackled once again with something that after all this time he could finally define. 

Sexual tension. 

That’s what it was. He confronted her, and she confronted him, and he could stand it no longer. 

She wanted _anger_? She wanted _fury_? Well, she would bloody have it. So for the first time since she told him everything, he didn’t hold back. 

Thinking of Jemma and Will made him physically sick. Thinking of what could have been made him irate. Thinking that he actually was jealous of a poor sap stuck on a death planet made him disgusted with himself. Thinking of all the missed opportunities and separations they’d endured made him furious at the universe.

**_We’re cursed._ **

Jemma could scoff all she wanted, but it was the truth. They were destined to be friends. Sometimes together. Sometimes apart. But never _together_. 

Their track record spoke for itself. They literally had a fucking decade to figure it out. They were _inseparable_ for crying out loud. They built their _whole fucking lives_ around ensuring that they were. Inseparable.

And then he sees her plummeting from the sky to her death, and _that’s_ when it clicks. And like a bumbling, idiotic, cowardly, fucking wank he was, he says nothing. 

And she called him out on it. 

**_Okay_. **

If that wasn’t the hypocritical pot calling the kettle black, he didn’t know what was. 

“You only mention it at the bottom -”

 _And_ ** _you_** knew _how I felt and knew how you felt, and you **still** did nothing until I was in mortal danger._

And then...

And then through portals and planets and astronauts and surviving and monsters, she finds another love. 

Another love with another guy who was **every. single. thing.** he was not.

The classic tall, dark, and handsome. 

The older man.

The highly-skilled _astronaut_.

The **hero**. 

A regular Mr. Saves-the-Day. Sweeps in and saves the girl. 

She pleaded with him to understand, but he didn’t want to hear it. All he wanted to know was -

“Do you love him?” 

She stuttered and backtracked and then said the one word that shattered his already fragile heart.

**_YES._ **

Because until then, a small, foolish part of him had been stupidly hopeful. Especially after watching that video. After hearing her confirmation, standing in the light of the sun. 

 _Maybe...maybe she_ didn’t lo- 

**_YES._ **

For such an inherently positive word, he was really starting to hate it. 

**_YES._ **

A confirmation of what he already feared. What Jemma and Will had was real. What Jemma and Will had was worth fighting for. What Jemma and Will had dashed all hope.

So with nothing less to lose, he angrily slammed his fist on the desk, admitting that he had ulterior motives for researching one Will Daniels. He was convinced that if he could just find _something_ \- anything - to dissuade his connection with Jemma, then - 

The fucking astronaut was perfect. Spotless. Harmless. A good man. He exhausted every resource. Pursued every scenario. Went through many a sleepless night to discover Will’s perfect, spotless record. And he hated himself for it. He **hated** that he _couldn’t_ hate Will the Hero. He **hated** that he couldn’t blame Jemma for falling in love with the do-gooder astronaut. He could only hate himself. For _waiting_ and then pushing her away and then not rescuing her 4,722 hours earlier. 

**_YES._ **

_Of course it’s_ **YES.** _What else could he expect for it not to be a_ **YES** _?_

He was so riled up, he started _defending_ her feelings for Will to her. 

She interrupted. 

**_And you dove through a hole in the universe for me._ **

_..._

**_FUCK IT._ **

All thoughts left him as he grabbed her. Forcefully. Backing her into the desk. His lips bruising hers, he swallowed her gasp. One hand holding her firmly to him. Roughly. The other at her face. He foggily registered a hand light on his arm. Not pushing him away.

He pressed her to him even more. Fueling all his fury and passion and lust and despair into her lips. He felt her respond to him, _a kiss_ , right before he broke the connection, their breaths mingling. Releasing her. Challenging her. 

They were both breathing hard. The tension in the air had turned electric.

Her eyes were dilated with want as she stared at him. Stunned. She stepped towards him, and somehow in the haze of his mind, clouded with desire and need, he knew exactly what she was going to do. His eyes already focused back on her lips. 

She put a hand on the back of his neck, bringing his face towards hers. His eyes were already closed as she gently sucked on his top lip, her hand moving to the underside of his jaw, her thumb brushing his reddened earlobe. He welcomed the soft kiss, kissing her back tenderly. This wasn’t a bruising kiss. Wasn’t one full of passion and fiery and pent-up frustration. This was something different. Something almost familiar. Something _nice_. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her firmly to him. One hand at her back, the other at the small of it. 

It was the sweetest kind of torture, that kiss. Her lips were warm and inviting, caressing his. But he _knew_. 

This wasn’t - 

It was a goodbye kiss. Plain and simple. 

They broke apart too soon. And maybe not soon enough. Because now that he knew what it felt like to -

Their foreheads rested against each other as if some sort of magnetic force resided between them, drawing them. Connecting them. Fusing them together. 

He kept his eyes closed, for he knew that the minute he opened them, the spell would be broken. And she’d run back to her prince, and he’d continue to help his princess get him back. 

Her hand continued to caress his face, her nails lightly trailing over his stubble. It was the most delicious type of agony, her nails on him. A mixture of want and tenderness and - 

It was a goodbye kiss. 

So summoning all the strength he could, he broke the embrace, opening his eyes, breaking the spell, resigning himself to the cosmos. 

“ _We’re cursed._ ” His voice was rough as he stared into her eyes. For he saw _**love** _ reflected in them.

 **Love** for _him_. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

And so. 

He stepped aside. Walking away from the woman he loved. From the woman who loved him. From the -

“Fitz, is that what I think it is?”

Was she bloody serious? Couldn’t even give a sorry bloke enough time to lick his wounds? 

 _Ah_ , but had he already forgotten after only two lip-locks? 

_**YES.** _

He licked his lips, relieving some of the nervous energy built up in him and walked over to the fallen book (that Jemma had flung off the desk in a fit of passion - he’d like to add. Passion for _him._ ) _._

“It uh - it looks like,” Fitz’s voice broke, still thick with emotion. “Looks like - it’s _Hydra_.”

Jemma threw up her arms. “Of course it is. Of _course_ Hydra would be behind our current plight.” 

“Hey - it’s -”

“I just - it’s not _fair_ , Fitz.” She looked at him meaningfully, and he understood what she was trying to say. She loved him, and she loved Will, and it wasn’t fucking fair. 

Fitz sighed. Resigned. 

“I know.” 

-

Later that night, after debriefing the team and Hydra talks and several more awkward moments alone that two friends are bound to have after one or two  passionate exchanges, he lay awake in his bunk. 

**_YES._ **

It was clear to him now that Jemma loved him, too. **TOO**. Not _only_. Not _solely_. **TOO.**

**_YES._ **

So like the pathetic lovesick fool he was, he closed his eyes, greedily replaying their kisses in his mind. 

He was fucked. That much was certain.

For how could he move on from the soft, pliant warmth of Jemma Simmons’s lips? How could he forget the way her body molded to his and felt against his, her breasts pressed against his chest, her heart beating erratically with his own? How could he not think about the intoxicating scent of her shampoo or the heat of her breath? 

He _couldn’t_. 

...

**_YES._ **

**-**

A/N: To catch a glimpse of Jemma's perspective during "Many Heads, One Tale", read "[He Did Everything Right](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7528966)" - a companion piece to this one. 


	53. Give Up the World

A/N: And...once again. Do yourself a favor and listen to "[Ever After](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cts6y-v7hhU)" by Marianas Trench when you read this one. Seriously. (But fair warning - he blatantly says the “f” word once.) It’s so Fitz in this ep - I can’t get over it. 

-

“Let’s go. Mr. Malick is waiting.” 

Fitz’s heart stopped. it just - 

They had just witnessed Banks (along with the other two men) being murdered in cold blood, and - 

“We’re not going with you,” Jemma sneered. Fitz started surveying the scene, already running through possible scenarios to get her out alive and intact. 

“Suit yourself,” the man shrugged. With a simple motion of the hand, he raised the gun responsible for killing the other three and aimed it at Fitz’s temple.

Jemma gasped, immediately throwing her hands up in surrender, stepping in front of Fitz - in front - in front of the gun. 

_Was she mad?!_

“I’ll do - just, _please_...”

Fitz grabbed her arm, silently begging her to get back behind him, but she stubbornly stood her ground.

_Jemma._

The man’s grin was cruel. “Follow me.” 

Seeing no way out of the situation, they followed the man outside the facility to a waiting jet. The minute they got onboard, more men seized both of them, tying their hands behind their backs, shoving them roughly on the floor and attaching their wrist bindings to a post where they sat back-to-back. They were seemingly left alone then, but Fitz knew better. They might be alone for now, but he was absolutely certain they were being watched.

Fitz exhaled shakily after several moments. “Jemma, are you - are you alright?” 

“Never better.” 

Fitz sighed at the grim tone. Of _course_ she wasn’t alright. He wished he could see her. He wished he could talk to her without prying eyes watching their every move. He wished. He wished. 

He _wished_.

He maneuvered himself closer and tried to grab her hand instead, only succeeding in linking three of his fingers with two of hers. 

He felt a small squeeze back. 

-

“Split them up.” 

Fitz’s heart stopped. It just -

Before he could process Ward’s words, Jemma was being ripped away from him, and he struggled against his captor, trying to get one last look at her. 

_Just one **last** - _

His head was shoved - quite _rudely_ \- in the opposite direction. 

-

“There’s a much simpler way to make you talk.”

Fitz’s heart stopped. It just -

He pleaded. 

He begged. 

_Didn’t he have a heart?_

_Any sort of compassion?_

The answer, of course, was _**NO**. _ Or instead of rambling on and on with his stupid, patronizing villain monologue about Fitz’s affections for Jemma, Ward would’ve released him. Would’ve released Jemma. Would’ve cursed Hydra’s name and Malick’s name and Maveth’s name. None of that was going to happen, he knew. 

Still. 

He threw himself upon Ward’s mercy anyway. 

Lot of fucking good it -

**_“NO!”_ **

She was - she - was - in - in - in - 

**“NO! _NO!_ ” **

**_JEMMA._ **

**_JEMMAJEMMAJEMMAJEMMAJEMMAJEMMAJEMMAJEMMAJEMMA_ **

**_JEMMA._ **

**_NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO_ **

**_NO. NO. NO._ **

**_JEMMA. J-J-J-J-J-_ **

He strained against his ties, gritting his teeth. Trying to bust them open with all his might. As Ward looked on.

**_Amused._ **

-

“I’m curious which is worse for you...those moments when Simmons screams? Or is it the long pauses when she doesn’t?” 

Fitz’s heart stopped. It just -

The sudden ringing of the cellphone emulating so perfectly her - her - her - her - her - her - her - her - her - her - her - her - her - her 

**_JEMMA._ **

**_J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-Jemma._ **

**_They were TORTURING her. She was being TORTURED. TOR - TOR - TOR - TOR - TOR_ **

**_Her screams._ **

They haunted him. Why wouldn’t they just fucking **STOP**? Couldn’t they hear she was in **agony**? 

**_WHY COULDN’T HE JUST - WHY - WHY - WHY -_ **

If only he was a stronger man. One who could break through the ties that bound him and save her. 

If only he was a faster man. One who could’ve gotten Jemma out of the facility before the telekinetic man could capture them. 

If only he was a smarter man. One who could’ve rescued Jemma 4,722 hours earlier.

If only he was a more chivalrous man. One who wouldn’t’ve left Jemma by herself with that 0-8-4 of a monolith. 

If only he was a more forgiving man. One who would’ve allowed things to mend between them earlier. 

If only he was a braver man. One who could’ve told Jemma of his feelings for her instead of waiting until facing certain death. 

If only he was a more ruthless man. One who would’ve killed Ward when he confronted him a year and a half ago. 

If only he was more powerful man. One who could send this sorry place and the people in it (besides - _besides_ ) to Hell. 

If only - if only - if only - if only - _if only_. 

**_JEMMA._ **

**J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-**

**-**

“You understand me?! _Do you?!_ ” 

Fitz’s heart stopped. It just - 

**_“No. NO!”  
_ **

Her screams - her screams - her screams - her screams - her screams - her - 

She was in - in - in - in - in - 

**_J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-_ **

**_JEMMA._ **

**_NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo._ **

He needed to do something. 

He needed to - needed to - needed to - needed to - 

He _had_ to. 

_**“NO!”** _

SHEWASSCREAMINGSCREAMINGSCREAMINGSCREAMINGSCREAMING

He was so fucking powerless. 

He could only _listen_. 

He barely registered Ward’s return. Barely heard Ward’s taunting.

“The girl’s a fighter, but she’s human, Fitz. And you and I _both_ know that we, as a species, are not indestructible.” 

He had to do something - had to do - had to - 

_**DO SOMETHING.** _

_Had to - had to - had to - had to - had to - had to - had to - had to -_

_**“NO!”** _

He couldn’t - couldn’t - couldn’t - couldn’t - 

He - he - he - he - he - he - he - 

**_J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-_ **

**_JEMMA._ **

_**“NO!”** _

_**...** _

_“ALRIGHT!”_

He was breathing hard, sweat pouring down his face, accompanying his outburst with as much rage and fury he could muster. 

Ward looked at him triumphantly, a smirk on his face.

“It’s about time.” 

-

“Oh, Fitz.” 

Fitz’s heart stopped. It just -

Because there she was, a fresh wound on her cheek, her hair out of place. Obviously in great distress. But the look on her face? Almost a look of - of - disa - 

He couldn’t - couldn’t - couldn’t - couldn’t - 

And couldn’t she fucking _see_ that? 

He bowed his head. 

“Sorry, Jemma.” 

Maybe a stronger man would’ve been able to not give in so easily. Maybe a smarter man would’ve seen a third option. Maybe a more chivalrous man would’ve succeeded in insisting that he be the one tortured instead. Maybe a faster man would’ve gotten the both of them out of there alive and unscathed. Maybe a more powerful man could’ve defeated their assailants.

But _he_ was Leopold Fitz. A man who knew what it was like to live without Jemma Simmons. A man who feared the worst and still kept looking for her. A man who wouldn’t give up. A man who couldn’t give up. A man who couldn’t stop then, and a man who couldn’t stop now, and she could disapprove and be mad all she fucking wanted, but his mind was made up.

He _had_ to.

-

“Hey! You touch her, and the deal is off.” 

Fitz’s heart stopped. It just -

Because there she was, looking as beautiful as ever, eyes pleading. 

“Fitz, you can’t do this.” 

“My mind’s made up, Jemma.” He _had_ to - didn’t she see? He had to - had to - _had_ to make a deal with the devil in order to - to - 

 _“Not a hair on her_ head _, you monsters. You understand me?! You lay_ one _bloody finger on her -”_

_“Scout’s honor.” Gideon Malick put his hands up in mock surrender.  
_

He _had_ to.

“No - we can’t let them bring that thing to this _planet_!” 

He _had_ to.

“ _Fitz?”_ She was frustrated. Begging him to listen to reason.

But didn’t she see? 

He _had_ to. 

“Please,” Jemma continued. Desperate. “Just let them kill me.” 

He _had_ to.

“I can’t do that. I _won’t._ ” Her eyes were glassy as she refused to look at him, sighing in resignation. 

He _had_ to. 

“I lost you once.” She met his eyes then. His voice turned hoarse as he continued, silently pleading for her to understand. 

He _had_ to. 

“I can’t lose you again.” 

He _had_ to.

“I’m just - I’m not strong enough to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.” 

He _had_ to.

She stared at him. 

Overcome. 

And then laid her head on his shoulder, whispering a message that resonated through his whole being.

**_Come back to me._ **

He _had_ to.

He cupped the back of her neck, caressing her softly. 

He _had_ to.

He heard fear in her voice as she begged him to not bring - 

He gently lifted her head, soothing her. Reminding her of their original plan. Their original plan before it all went to Hydra. The original plan that involved rescuing her boyfriend. 

And he was determined to succeed.

He _had_ to. 

He would do anything for her. He would do anything, and he had done everything, and this was the next _anything_ she needed.

To save her and to save Will and to save two hearts meant for each other, physically separated by the cosmos. 

He _had_ to.

She looked up at him with tenderness and lo - _lov_ \- _**love**_ and bravely nodded. He touched her hair, placing the loose strands behind her ear, his thumb stroking her cheek -

Ward’s voice cut in, and he broke apart from her, quickly.

Ward already knew threatening her would break him. He didn’t want him to know just how deep their connection really was. Let him think that it’s a classic tale of boy loves girl, and girl is indifferent to boy. 

_She was safer that way._

-

“Wait for me - I’m right behind you. Get on in.”

Fitz’s heart stopped. It just - 

Because Jemma’s torturer grabbed her arm, leading her away from him.

_Wait._ _No -_

**_Jemma._ **

She looked back at him, her eyes full of meaning and fear and despair and - _love_.

And once the portal opened and Ward thrust a pair of goggles into his hand, encouraging him to embrace this new change, it was time.

Taking one last look at Jemma, he willed his eyes to tell her what his heart had been whispering over and over and over.

_**I love you.** _

And then he jumped.


	54. He'll Find His Way Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing this one too. That reunion scene is one of my all-time favorite scenes ever.

“Do it, May. _Now_!” 

Jemma steeled herself to not react. Mack was the acting director - had to make the tough calls. And May had to follow an order.

**_BUT._ **

**_What if._ **

Her heart was in her throat, and she waited on baited breath for Mack to say something else. _Anything else._

**Fitz. Will. Fitz. Will. Fitz. Will. Fitz. Will. Fitz. Will. Fitz.**

**Fitz.**

That _man_  - he - he -

“Open the doors. I’m bringing them in.”

Once again, she tried to reign in her emotions. 

Keep her smile at a minimal. 

**_BUT._ **

**_FITZ._ **

**_WILL._ **

**_F-_ **

They - they - th - 

She ran with the rest of her team to where the containment module was just landing inside Zephyr One. 

She barely registered Mack and Daisy stepping out when she could stand it no longer. 

She stepped up to the module’s window, peering inside. 

She had to - had to - 

**_Fitz. Will. Fitz. Will. Fitz. Will. Fitz. Will. Fitz._ **

But where - it was - was - was - 

It was _empty_. 

It was **_empty._**

It was - 

Where the _hell_ were they? That couldn’t’ve been it, right? It wasn’t just Mack and Daisy who - who - who -

Mack specifically said _them_ \- she - she heard him say it. 

He said _them._

_THEM_. 

So where the _fuck_ were  **“** _ **them”**_? 

Where - where - where -

He battled a monster to give her a chance to return to F- she - she - she -  _couldn’t_ handle - he gave her _hope_ when she had none - he - 

She couldn’t say goodbye. She wasn’t ready to - to - 

_WILL._

_He - he - he - he couldn’t._

It was **_empty._**

Where - where - where - 

He had made it _so_ clear without saying the words how much he - the things he did for her - the _sacrifices_ he made - the k - _ki -_

She couldn’t say goodbye. She wasn’t ready to - to - 

**_FITZ._ **

**_He - he - he - he couldn’t. He -_ **

She turned away from the _**empty** \- _ from the - to - to 

It was _-_

**_HIM_. **

It _was._

She found herself just - just _staring_ at him. Too overcome to do anything else. 

She stared at him, and he stared at her, and - 

She couldn’t - couldn’t - coul - 

She gripped the back of his shirt, roughly pulling him towards her, locking him in a fierce embrace that he swiftly returned. He held her firmly, lightly scratching her back with one hand. To soothe her. 

Because only when she was in the safety of his arms, did she finally allow the tears to fall. 

**_FITZ._ **

-

They stayed like that, arms tightly wrapped around each other, for a long time. She didn’t want him to ever - to _ever_ - 

_God_. She loved him. 

And he came back to her. 

Just as she made him promise. 

“Debrief in ten, everyone.” Coulson’s voice was hoarse, cutting through the haze of comfort and safety and relief and _love_ and - 

She didn’t relinquish her hold on him, still sobbing. Softly. 

And he didn’t relinquish his hold on her, still rubbing her back. Softly. 

She didn’t - didn’t _want_ to - 

She didn’t want to leave the embrace - didn’t want to think about anything but _**Fitz** _ and his still beating heart and steady breath and she didn’t care that he smelled like _death_ or that he was all dusty from the windstorms or - 

_Oh, Fitz._

She didn’t - didn’t _want_ to - she didn’t want to let go - to focus on anything else - because she knew once she did - she would have to face the reality that - that _he_ wasn’t - _he_ didn’t - 

_**Will.** _

As if sensing her sudden train of thought, Fitz gently loosened his grip, and she had never felt more of a loss of contact. Facing her, he tenderly placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes searching hers. His eyes full of - 

She studied him, taking in his features - wanting to - to  - he was - he was back he was - _Wait._

Was he - was he _bleeding_? She reached up to touch his temple, and he hissed from the pain, and she withdrew her hand. 

“I should - I -” she cleared her throat. “I should take - take a look at -”

“I can’t - um I can’t - _do_ this - I just - Coulson’s waiting,” Fitz cut in, his voice as thick with emotion as hers. 

“ _Fitz_.” 

He turned away from her, walking to the command center. Everyone else had cleared out, she finally realized. She didn’t know how long they were left alone, and suddenly, she felt very, very tired. 

He stopped after a few steps, turning around slightly, a signal for her to join him. 

She did. 

-

“On behalf of Fitz and myself, I want to - just - _thank you_.” A few people clapped, but everyone was just simply too worn out to react appropriately. Coulson’s eyes were shifty, and she wondered why he wouldn’t meet hers as they scanned the room. “The whole Hydra team on Maveth is crossed off. And so is -” _Why wouldn’t he -_

And then it dawned on her. She was standing directly in front of Fitz. He wasn’t avoiding looking at her; he was avoiding looking at _him_. 

_What the hell happened on that God-forsaken planet? What -_

“And so is Ward. Did what had to be done,” Coulson looked down, nodding as if to reassure himself. He raised his head, and she could see a new kind of - there was a kind of - 

“Fitz?” Coulson beckoned for Fitz to share his part, and Fitz stepped over to him, his arm brushing hers as he did. 

“I led the Hydra goons - using the program Jemma had designed - with - with Will’s help.” His eyes found hers then, and she didn’t know - couldn’t think - couldn’t _breathe_ -

“My plan was to ditch them _without_ waking up the planet’s hell beast, ensuring only - only _Will_ and I made it back through. I didn’t - didn’t know Coulson was there, too.” He put his hands on his hips, looking down, refusing to look at Coulson. 

_What the hell happened -_

“The plan was - it was _working_. And then -” He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking back at Jemma, his eyes, plea - _pleading_ \- and suddenly - she didn’t want him to - had the strangest urge to slam her hands over her ears. 

But she didn’t. 

She heard everything. 

She heard - 

“- found out Will died saving Jemma when I brought her back. The - the  - the _monster_ had taken over his body. But he - he _recognized_ me, and he knew who Jemma was - and - it was like -”

She barely registered all eyes in the room focused on her. 

_**Will died saving Jemma.  
** _

_**NO.** _

“- like he had access to Will’s - to his  _memories_.” Tears flooded Jemma’s vision and began to slide down her cheeks, and she silently begged him to _stop_.

 She didn’t want to hear - didn’t want -

“He tried to kill me. So Coulson and I shot him. Only slowed him down, because he started heading towards the open portal. Had to use a flare to -”

She _couldn’t -_ couldn’t hear any - 

She fled the room. 

-

She heard footsteps. Didn’t have to turn around - didn’t have to lift up her head to - she just - she just _knew_. 

He sat down beside her. 

They didn’t talk. Didn’t - 

He reached for her hand. 

She let him. 

She wept. 

She wept for her astronaut.

And for the second time that night, Fitz gathered her in his arms. Scratching her back, softly. To soothe her. 

She let him. 


	55. This Chasm As You Call It

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

He had held her in his arms. _Twice_ that night. And she had molded to him so perfectly, and he wanted to keep holding her -

He could just sit and hold her forever.

But it wasn’t - it was a comforting hug - not - not a _romant_ -

It was an _I’m so sorry_ hug.

So he let her go.

And she let him.

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

He made himself keep his distance from her the next few weeks. Spending more time with Hunter - watching whatever was playing on Netflix.

Hunter didn’t press for details, and he was grateful. They simply drank their beer and ate pretzels and talked of mundane things - things that might concern a normal person in a normal job in a normal life.

“I’m telling you, Fitz, chicks dig the facial hair. How do you think I got Bobbi?” He waggled his eyebrows, and Fitz rolled his eyes.

“Don’t know if you should be using your bizarre relationship as an example -”

“What do you think, Simmons?”

Fitz froze.

He slightly turned and saw Jemma, looking at him hesitantly.

“I - uh - I don’t think I’m the best -”

“Sure you are. You’re a chick.” Both Jemma and Fitz fixed him with an icy stare, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender. “ _Sorry_. Valued female scientist.”

“That’s better.” Jemma sat beside Fitz on the love seat. “What are you guys watching?”

“A documentary about the dangers and addictive qualities of sugar. Glad I decided to give up that stuff.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow. “You had a chocolate sundae just last night.”

Hunter shrugged. “Right. But the point is - I could’ve had _two._ Self control, love.”

_Sure it is, Hunter._

“ _Woa_! You guys really do share the same brain.”

Fitz furrowed his brow. “What the hell are you going on about -”

Hunter clutched his chest, dramatically. “The two of you rolling your eyes simultaneously. Hits me right _here_.”

"I’m quite sure -”

“You’ll live.”

“-you’ll survive.” Jemma finished her quip, glancing at Fitz. Timid.

Hunter simply laughed, dodging the couch pillow chucked in his direction.

Fitz only stayed for half of the film, feigning tiredness. 

He just - 

He _couldn’t._

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

He got to work, determined to focus all on his energy on building a new hand for Coulson. Something that _didn’t_ resemble the one he left behind next to Ward’s corpse on Maveth.

He was deep into his task when Jemma approached him with that - that _smile_ again.

He really, really hated that forced smile.

“Hi, Fitz. Sorry - sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you’d like to take a break and have lunch with me.”

Fitz returned a pained smile of his own. “You know, I - I just ate. And I can’t leave this right now. Another time, yeah?”

Jemma nodded. “Sure, Fitz.”

She left him alone to his work. 

She left him alone to his grief. 

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

He experienced nightmares most nights. Nightmares about Ward and Malick and Giyera (he finally learned the son of a bitch’s name) and being tied to a chair and Agent Banks with a bullet in his temple and _Jemma_. He would wake up from them, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, heart pounding. On nights like those, he would sneak into the lab and continue working - doing _anything_ really - to keep his mind off of the sound of Jemma’s screams.

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

It had been a month after his return from his unexpected detour to Maveth when he heard something he’d been longing to hear for nearly a year.

_Her laugh._

Not a polite, forced one - he’d been privy to many of those, _thank you very much._ No, but a real genuine, belly laugh that always seemed to brighten his mood.

She and Daisy were in the kitchen, Jemma’s hands wrapped around a mug of tea. Daisy sipping bottled water.

“I swear, Jemma. Coulson gave Lincoln _the talk_. Like. Could he be anymore Creeper Dad right now?”

Jemma smiled sadly. Wistfully. “I shudder to think what he would’ve told Will had they ever met.”

Daisy sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m - I’m fine, really. Just...little moments like this make me...” Jemma wiped her eyes.

He quietly started walking away from the kitchen entrance.

Thankfully, neither spotted him.

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

Lincoln started joining Fitz and Jemma in the lab, and Jemma started working with him, both using their specific expertise to further their knowledge of inhuman biology. 

He was glad she had someone to distract her from her loss, but he couldn’t help feeling a tinge of envy every time Jemma accidentally finished one of Lincoln’s sentences.

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

“I think this model should suffice for the time being, sir, but I’m working on something that far outweighs any of the ones we’ve tampered with in the past.”

Coulson simply nodded as Fitz fit a prosthetic hand on Coulson’s left arm.

Neither of them said anything else.

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

He experienced nightmares most nights. Nightmares about Ward and the whole Hydra squad and Maveth and the look in Coulson’s eyes and _Will_ ablaze and the blue and the endless night and the wind. He would wake up from them, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, heart pounding. On nights like those, he would sneak into the lab and continue working - doing _anything_ really - to keep his mind off of the image of Will torched with flame. 

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

It took two months after their return from an unexpected detour to Maveth for things between Coulson and Fitz to get back to normal. Well. Normal for them, anyway. There were still many things unsaid, but they were able to actually look each other in the eye, making that a triumph of its own.

“Alright, Fitz. I’ve been thinking. Hear me out. A _shield_ for the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. - that would be so, so _cool_. You think you can do it?” 

Fitz nodded, grinning. “Brilliant. I’ll get right on it.” 

He poured all of his energy into perfecting the model, slightly succeeding in escaping his own thoughts. 

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

“So how are things with you and Simmons?” 

Mack’s eyes were focused on the screen, his fingers fast on the controller, but Fitz knew he had Mack’s full attention. 

“There _is_ no me and Simmons, Mack. I killed her boyfriend. You can’t go back from that.” 

Mack scoffed. “You didn’t _kill_ her boyfriend, Turbo. He was already dead. You just barbecued the corpse’s ass.” 

Fitz grimaced. “That’s one colorful way of putting it.” 

“The sooner you get it into your thick skull that you didn’t do anything wrong, the better.” 

Fitz sighed. 

_If only it were that simple._

-

How was he supposed to live with himself? Knowing that he could’ve - could’ve done -

Jemma and Will were a story for the ages. And he ruined - he ruined _everything_.

-

**_You’ve been nothing less than extraordinary this whole time._ **

Those words stayed with him long after he was reintroduced to his best friend of twelve years and the love of his life.

She had stayed in the lab with him as he told her all about the new gadgets that Coulson currently had at his disposal with only a literal flick of his prosthetic fingers. 

She laughed - a _real_ laugh - at the idea of Coulson wanting a shield.

_“He’s too Steve Rogers for his own good, isn’t he?”  
_

_“You’re one to talk, Peggy Carter.”  
_

_Jemma swatted at him as he laughed - a_ real _laugh - at her expense._

**_Nothing less than extraordinary._ **

Is that how she really saw him?

All this time - when he thought that she must’ve _hated_ him for what he did - she was actually - 

**_Extraordinary._ **

-

He found himself keeping as little distance from her as possible after that. And weirdly enough, she was doing the same. They spent more time with Hunter - watching whatever was playing on Netflix. 

"You guys _have_ to check out this documentary about the Amazon. Changed my life.”

Jemma took a sip from her beer and shrugged. “Sounds fascinating. Let’s watch that next.” 

Fitz nodded in agreement, his mouth full of pretzels. 

Hunter looked back and forth between the pair, a slow smile playing on his lips. “You know - I just - I remembered that I have to - Bob needs me to - you guys enjoy it. Already seen it myself recently anyway.” 

Jemma watched Hunter leave. “That was rather odd of him.” 

“Odder than normal. Which is a rarity when it comes to Lance Hunter.” 

Jemma giggled from her spot beside him on the love seat.

Fitz reached for the remote abandoned on the coffee table and pressed play. 

He stayed with her long after the film was over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day after I wrote this one, my roomie was playing a documentary about sugar on Netflix. Unprompted.
> 
> It’s fate.


	56. If You Wouldn't Mind

What did she have to do? Show up to his bedroom, wearing nothing but a lab coat and jump him?

 _God_ , he was insufferable. When was he going to take the hint?

She knew he was giving her space - respecting Will and all - 

And she knew he was respecting her wishes to begin anew, and she appreciated the sentiment wholeheartedly, and it was all so loving and chivalrous and kind and admirable if it - 

**Wasn’t. so. _maddening_.**

Didn’t he get it, yet?

She _loved_ him.

She loved him very, very much, and they were finally in a position where they could _act_ on it - and he just -

 _Ugh_.

-

Fitz had shown her the gadget he made for Coulson, explaining that the machine could make gloves that would retrieve the scans that Coulson would send from his bionic hand.

“That’s quite genius, Fitz. Well done.” She touched his arm affectionately, squeezing once, and lingering there a bit longer than necessary.

“Come on, Simmons. Who do you think you’re dealing with here?” Fitz scoffed, turning away from her. “Now if I can just…”

She removed her hand from his arm, but she doubted he even noticed it there in the first place.

_-_

“Hi Fitz. Tea? I have enough for two. I’ll even put in the ghastly amounts of sugar in it for you.” She scrunched up her nose playfully, sticking out her tongue, stealthily inching closer to him.

“Was actually just going to get some water. Trying to cut back on my caffeine. Mack’s lecturing finally got to me.”

“Oh. Right. Yes, of course.”

“But thanks, Jemma.” Fitz smiled warmly and stepped around her to open the fridge, grabbing a water bottle, and walked out of the kitchen.

-

They were seated on the love seat, watching _Doctor Who_ , and she tried to subtly inch closer and closer to him, glancing at his expression every so often to see his reaction.

There was none.

She kept scooting herself towards him, deciding to cross a leg in his direction so that she could just - _by happenstance, of course -_ barely -

“Oh, am I taking up too much room? Sorry about that. Plenty more room over here.”

He stood up, walking to the arm chair next to the sofa, settled in, and continued to watch the episode.

-

“Fitz, is his blood doing what I think it’s doing?”

Fitz walked over, peering at the screen that magnified Creel’s blood on Daisy’s.

“It - It looks like it’s reversing terrigenesis. Fascinating.”

“Exactly. This is - this could be a breakthrough, Fitz. I’ve got to go find Lincoln. See if he has any insight on it.” She turned to leave the lab, but he apparently needed to go the other direction, and they bumped right into each other.

Neither backed away, staring at each other, and Jemma’s eyes focused on his lips, _waiting_ for -

Fitz shook his head, stepping aside. “I can be such a klutz. Sorry, Jemma.”

Jemma huffed.

-

She was embarrassed to have interrupted Lincoln and Daisy in such a  _vulnerable_ position, but if she was being _completely_ honest with herself, she was jealous, too.

So she invited Fitz to train with her.

“If we’re going to continue being thrust in tight positions like Maveth and Gloucestershire, we really ought to take more of a -”

“Proactive role, yeah. Yeah, I’ve been hitting the gym a bit more.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows, appreciatively. “I’d say more than a _bit_ , Fitz.”

But he was already selecting weights and starting his reps. “What was that?”

Jemma sighed.

She got on the treadmill, setting her pace, and began her run. 

They _were_ at the gym after all.

Might as well take her frustrations outin some _other_  way. 


	57. Even to Save Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teared up writing this one, too. That spy’s goodbye gets me every. single. time.

Jemma was glad Fitz was right behind her, because the minute she stepped out of Teddy’s Bar, she felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulders, hugging her, holding her to him. She leaned into him, crying into his shirt softly. 

They continued walking towards the plane like that, his arm around her, her arm around his middle. 

They didn’t speak. They were too overcome, revering the silence. 

But she could’ve sworn she felt his lips in her hair. 

-

They were sprawled out in the common area, taking turns recounting different tales about Bobbi and Hunter. There were no deaths, so it wasn’t a memorial service - but - but  _still_. After debriefing Lincoln and the rest of the team back on base what happened in Siberia, Coulson got a big bottle of Jack Daniels and a plethora of shot glasses, and they sat together, drinking and reminiscing. 

Mack retreated to his bunk fairly quickly after they started. 

The others took far longer, and after three hours of bitter shots and bittersweet memories, they were all quite tipsy. 

Well… _drunk_ , really. 

Jemma was amusing the group with a particularly colorful retelling of Bobbi’s and her narrow escape from infiltrating Hydra, but when it was Fitz’s turn, his eyes turned serious, and he wouldn’t look at her, regardless of them being side-by-side. 

“Bobbi - um -” Fitz cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse. “Bobbi was the only one who kept at it with me in the search for Jemma. Kept giving me strength and encouragement. I knew she uh - I knew she thought I was on a fool’s errand - but she did- she didn’t - she just - she just kept helping. And I’ll never forget it.” 

Tears stung Jemma’s eyes as she stared at Fitz. He finally met her gaze, tears swimming in his own. 

“I’m just sorry that I _shot_ Hunter.” A grumble broke Jemma out of the trance, and Fitz’s attention had already diverted to May. 

Everyone laughed heartily at that. 

“To Hunter and Bobbi!” Daisy lifted her glass with a teary smile. It was the seventh time the pair had been toasted that night, but the response was as enthusiastic as the first. 

“To Hunter and Bobbi!” The group echoed. 

-

The rest of the gang had turned in, leaving FitzSimmons on the sofa alone. 

The whiskey had long since been put away, but they were still quite - well, quite plastered. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Jemma said. “I just - I keep waiting for - for Hunter to barge in. Like - you know - griping that we all took shots without him.” 

Fitz snorted. “Right. And then Bobbi - of course - would drink everyone under the table. Even Hunter.” 

“Especially Hunter.” 

They laughed, grinning at each other.

Fitz looked down with a self-deprecating smile. 

Thoughtful. 

“I keep thinking about what Coulson - how they didn’t crack under interrogation. How I failed to -”

“Fitz.” 

Fitz looked at her. “Even now, I don’t regret - I’d do the exact - I’d do the exact same thing, Jemma.”

“I wish you -” 

“I’ll never forget the way you - I still hear them at night sometimes.” 

Jemma’s eyes were glassy. “Hear what, Fitz?” But she already knew. Of _course_ , she knew.

Fitz yawned, his eyes becoming unfocused. He started to stretch and lifted his feet to lie fully on the sofa, shocking her by placing his head on her thigh.

“Guess you could say - could say that you’re my biggest weakness.” 

Jemma started to run her fingers through his short hair, lightly scratching his scalp. 

“You’re my biggest weakness too,” she whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks. 

But he was already snoring softly in her lap. 


	58. For the Lot of It

“Hey, Fitz. You got a minute?” 

He was in the study, poring over text, learning all he could about nitramene, fascinated and horrified by what the Watchdogs accomplished with Felix Blake at the helm.

He looked up. “Sure, Daisy. What’s on your mind?” 

She hesitated but then walked over to him. “I just - I wanted to apologize for - for putting you in danger like that. It was rash and thoughtless, and I was just so - so consumed with _rage_ \- ya know? I felt it as a personal attack, and I was thinking like an inhuman, not an agent. I’m just - I hate that I put you in the middle of it.” 

Fitz smiled warmly. “No worries, Daisy.” 

“ _No worries_? Really? You almost died, Fitz.”

“ _What?!_ ” 

Daisy threw him another apologetic look for a completely different reason. 

They both turned to look at her. 

“Jemma, he - um - well, he -” Daisy stumbled over her words, and Fitz simply sighed. 

Jemma moved swiftly until she was in front of him, an accusatory glare crossing her features. 

“You almost _died_? What is she talking about, Fitz?” 

“Honestly, Jemma. It’s - it’s nothing. Right, Daisy?” Fitz shrugged half-heartedly, hoping Daisy would take the bait and agree. 

Jemma turned to Daisy, her lips pursed in a thin line. “Might I have a moment with Dr. Fitz here, Daisy?” 

Daisy nodded over-enthusiastically. “Yup! Sure thing.” She winced when Jemma’s back was turned and then all but ran from the study.

 _Thanks a_ lot _, Daisy. First you almost get me killed, and_ now -

“What the _hell_ happened in South Bend, Fitz?” 

-

“Jemma.” 

“You - you had nitramene attached to your body, and you - you, what? Don’t want me to react? What were you thinking, Fitz? You could’ve imploded at any moment.” 

Fitz grimaced. “Yeah, I’m quite aware of that, actually.” 

Jemma sighed heavily. “I know it’s the job, but I’m just - I’m so _tired_ of scrapes with death being a normal occurrence. And not -” 

“- an irregularity. I know.” 

Jemma stepped closer to him, and he caught a whiff of her shampoo. 

Lavender.

“Can I see where you - where you were attacked?”

He inhaled a sharp intake of breath. Her tone was almost shy, and her request seemed almost - almost _intimate_. 

He stared at her, not breaking eye contact, as he reached for his collar, pulling it down slightly to show her the bruise. 

She reached up to touch his neck, and he closed his eyes at her touch. The area was still pretty tender and sore, and her hand on him - so innocent yet _so_ \- it was - 

“Oh, _Fitz_ ,” she breathed. 

She stepped closer to him still, and he opened his eyes to find her face directly in front of his. If he just moved a little closer, he could - 

He shut his eyes again, shaking his head to wake him up from - 

He stepped back a little, causing Jemma to withdraw her hand.

“See, Jemma.” He hated how hoarse his voice sounded. “Nothing to worry about now. I’m fine.” 

Jemma bit her lip, nodding. She looked - if he wasn’t mistaken - _disappointed._

“I’m glad,” she murmured softly.

The minute she left him alone in the study, he returned to his reading, desperately trying to forget the touch of her hand and the smell of lavender. 


	59. Fourth-Dimensionally Speaking

“...and FitzSimmons were holding hands in the snow.”

Jemma’s eyes flickered to Fitz who was staring right back at her. 

_That’s - um - that’s_ odd _._

Daisy continued, “Lincoln’s face,” she turned towards him. “Your face was covered in - in blood.” Lincoln grimaced. 

“I was fighting these Hydra guys. And then Coulson, you -” Daisy turned to face Coulson. “You _shoot_ me.” 

Coulson did a double take. “I - what, now?”

“And then they’re leading the man up to the roof. And then he’s lying next to me, dying, wishing I could’ve helped.” Daisy looked down at the table. 

The team reiterated what she told them, making sure they understood her correctly. 

They did.

She didn’t know why Coulson asked if what Daisy saw was even possible - hadn’t he heard of Hermann Minkowski? 

They started brainstorming how to save the poor man when Fitz cut in, a tinge of sadness in his eyes. Trying to explain to the group about spacetime and flat paper people and fourth dimensions. 

“There’s no future. There’s no past. It just - It just _is.”_ He laid his fist down heavily on the paper stack. “And nothing you can do will change that.”

She wondered if he was merely still talking about Daisy. 

-

Fitz and Jemma sat with Daisy as she relayed everything she could recall from her vision. Jemma taking copious notes. Fitz constructing an algorithm to find the keywords Daisy mentions. 

And when they were interrupted by May who gave them a harsh demand, Jemma explained to the two the importance of May’s outburst.

Silently pleading for them to understand, eyes lingering longer on Fitz. 

And he did. Immediately.

Graciously.

“No worries. I’ll leave those servers alone.” 

_God_ , she loved him. 

-

They started practicing the fight Daisy caught a glimpse of in her vision. May running around with a plastic gun shouting “ _bang!”_ , Fitz acting ridiculous - she half expected him to start reciting Pyramus’s lines - ready for the  _thus, die I’s_ and _now am I dead. Now am I fleds_ and   _die, die, die, die, die’s -_ his theatrics so over the top. 

And he couldn’t remember his damn cue.

-

They ran through, rehearsing the - well, the _scene,_ tirelessly. Each of them understanding that just a second off meant the difference between life or death. 

After their seventeenth rehearsal, she approached Fitz, smug as ever about his unwavering idea that things would play out _exactly_ as Daisy saw. 

_God,_ he infuriated her. 

Nothing was _completely_ inevitable.

_...Right?_

-

Was that - was that _Andrew_? 

She sought out Fitz who was already staring at her, a knowing - almost vindicated - look in his eyes. 

But behind that, she saw something _else_. 

_“We’re both understandably desperate to find him.”  
_

She saw _concern_. 

-

“Is that Giyera?”

“That’s him. I’d know his face anywhere.” 

It was impossible to forget - though she desperately tried - the face of the man who tortured her hours on end. 

It was impossible to forget - though she desperately tried - the face of the man who took pleasure in her discomfort. 

It was impossible to forget - though she desperately tried - the face of the man who merely stared at her as he caused her unimaginable, searing pain. 

It was impossible to forget - though she desperately tried - the face of the man who was relentless in his craft.

It was impossible to forget - though she desperately tried - the face of the man who ignored her pleas.

It was impossible to forget - though she desperately tried - the face of the man who used her agony to persuade Fitz to jump through a hole in the universe.

She wanted to tear apart his fucking _face_.

They continued to watch the footage, Coulson rambling on, when she saw - 

She saw - 

She saw - 

She saw - 

It couldn’t - she couldn’t’ve have seen - that would mean - that would - 

That would - 

That would -

“Was that Ward?” Lincoln sounded frightened. 

_If only he knew._

She looked to Fitz. 

Why wasn’t he providing some sort of - why wasn’t he - 

“Unfortunately,” Fitz pointed to the screen, a hand on his hip. “I think that’s something else.” His voice broke as he looked at her.

_Terrified._

It - It _couldn’t_ be. 

“My God,” she breathed. “What is she walking into?”

-

“All right. Let’s go!” Lincoln led a team of agents to the north side of the building where the security entrance was. 

Jemma fell into step with Fitz. “And we?”

“We don’t go any closer. We stay here. Without a cloud in the sky.” Jemma looked around her, assessing the same. “Maybe Daisy didn’t see the future.” 

They looked at each other. 

What was - _what_ was going on? 

-

They couldn’t get a read on Coulson. They couldn’t get a read on Lincoln. They couldn’t get a read on Daisy. They couldn’t get a read on _anyone_. She felt powerless, standing by, waiting with Fitz. 

But according to Daisy’s vision, it _had_ to be this way. But - But what _if -_

_What if -_

“I just had an awful thought.” 

-

So they waited. They stood there. Looking up at the building. At the torched sign. 

And then she could - she could _hardly -_

It was - it was _ash_. The snow that Daisy saw. It was ash. And it was falling down. 

She wondered what circumstance would cause them to hold hands. _They_ weren’t in any real danger. They were mere observers this time, so what could possibly - 

Until she remembered her conversation with May earlier that day.

_“Every move we make changes the future.”_

_Of course._

Fitz held out his hand, catching the falling debris. 

“It’s not snow,” he said with wonder.

She turned to him, smiling. Ready to - 

“I think we’re supposed to hold hands now,” she said bravely.

Her heart light.

He looked at her with a look of - _of -_

She reached for his hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. 

He let her. 

They stared at their hands, clasped together, and then back at each other. 

The ash continuing to shower on them. 

She had to look away from the intensity of his gaze before she spoke again. “Maybe some things are inevitable.”

She wondered if he knew she wasn’t merely talking about Daisy.

He didn’t say anything back.

They just stood there. 

Their hands interlaced. 

Watching the burning sign produce more and more and more of the blessed ash. 

There would be time for talking. 

Time for maybe - a bit _more -_

But, for now, they soaked in a moment of peace. 

And didn’t separate until they saw the rest of their team. 

Battered. 

Bloodied. 

Beaten.

She already had a yearning to grab his hand again.

She didn’t. 

-

But he did.

He waited until they were side-by-side in the vehicle, on their way back to the Playground, the interior darkened, safe from intruding eyes. He reached for her hand, intertwining her fingers with his. 

She let him. 

They stayed that way the entire ride back to base. 


	60. And Torturer, Don't Forget

_“I’d know his face anywhere.”_

Once Fitz realized that Giyera was set on intruding in their lives again, he wasted no time in designing something that Giyera couldn’t use against _Je_ \- the team.

Ever since he saw what he did to Banks, ever since he heard Jemma’s - her scr-

He had fought against the darkness inside of him.

He wanted revenge.

He wanted to mercilessly _kill_ Giyera for what he did to Jemma.

But, for now, he focussed on building handprint locks in all of the guns that they would take with them on Zephyr One.

He wanted revenge.

But he settled for self-defense.

He settled for something that Giyera couldn’t use against _Jemma._

-

_“I’d know his face anywhere.”  
_

They had a plan.

A plan for May to face Giyera in combat.

No non-biological weapons to manipulate.

No reason for Giyera to hurt _Je-_ the team again.

And - as a backup - the handguns were still unusable unless the designated shooter unlocked them with their hands.

_“Great. So instead of shooting us, he’ll just bludgeon us to death.”_

Mack had a point.

_-_

_“I’d know his face anywhere.”_

Fitz stopped short when he saw the naked seatbelt.

Without the metal latch attached to it.

“That’s not good.” 

And suddenly, there he was, standing in front of him.

Jemma’s tormentor.

A man he had grown to loathe with every fucking fiber of his being.

He panicked, backing away quickly from him, hitting the emergency alarm. He crouched down, contemplating his next move.

Last time, he wasn’t quick enough and he and Jemma were captured where Jemma was put through -

_No._

He would make damn sure that wouldn’t happen.

Fitz took the cartridge out of the gun closest to him and then aimed at Giyera, pretending to shoot.

Giyera took the bait.

Fitz couldn’t resist dangling the cartridge in front of him. It was a dumb move. Even dumber when Giyera merely flung the gun at Fitz - Mack’s quip almost coming to fruition.

He ducked, missing the fatal blow.

Mack tried to help fight him off, but Giyera was too strong, too lethal.

The moment Giyera left, Fitz rushed to Mack’s aid.

He had a sinking feeling Giyera was headed for the control room.

Where _Jemma_ was.

-

_“I’d know his face anywhere.”_

He and Mack rallied a knocked out Coulson, and the three were still in hot pursuit of Giyera.

He made it to the control room first, his eyes landing on Jemma.

**_Not moving._ **

_NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo._

He flew to her side, tilting his ear towards her face.

The steady flow of breath eased his panic.

He placed two fingers on her neck, and the faint rhythm he felt made him exhale with relief.

He smoothed her hair off her forehead before rushing over to May, Coulson and Mack already kneeling beside her.

He gave himself another brief moment to revel in the fact that Jemma was alive and then got to work, focusing on the task at hand, examining May.

_-_

_“I’d know his face anywhere.”_

He had fought against the darkness inside of him.

He wanted revenge.

He wanted to mercilessly _kill_ Giyera for what he did to Jemma.

But, for now, he focussed on attending to May.

He wanted revenge.

But he settled for helping his team. 

And five minutes later, when Jemma finally came to, all thoughts of retribution left him.

_Still._

Wouldn’t hurt to find a way to stop Giyera once and for all. 

He saw what seeking vengeance did to Coulson. 

What happened with Ward.

He certainly wasn’t seeking revenge.

-

_“I’d know his face anywhere.”_

_Nope._

Certainly.

Wasn’t.

Doing.

…

_**That.** _


	61. Who Needs Space?

Fitz was still pretty sore from the grenade explosion earlier when he suggested they corral in his bunk. Having just completed extracting samples from the inhumans, Jemma wearily and readily agreed.

They sat down on the floor, leaning against his bed, spreading out their tools and data and samples, wishing they could both be in the lab.

His bunk was _not_ a viable substitute, and they felt powerless.

She laid her head on his shoulder, expressing her desire to help.

It was an intimate gesture, and she reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers.

It was - it was something they did often now - holding hands.

Ever since that night under the falling ash - they - whenever they felt they were away from prying eyes - one would reach for the other’s hand, always fingers intertwined, always hearts light.

It was -

He just _really_ liked holding her hand.

Gripping it tightly in his. Squeezing occasionally. A sense of security and unity coursing through their linked fingers.

_Maybe some things are inevitable._

Her words had plagued his brain ever since that night. Renewed in him a sense of - 

There was _hope_ for them. 

 _More than_ hope. 

It had taken him awhile, but he was finally starting to see how deep her love for him truly ran. 

And it stunned him and terrified him and strengthened him and elated him. 

And so with her head still on his shoulder, he rested his head on hers, his lips leaving a kiss in her hair.

And then -

He could just -

He could just feel her - she was pressed into his side, and she rested her other hand on their clasped ones - he could just -

She seemed to - seemed to just meld into his shoulder - and he was -

He wanted to -

He was so relaxed, sitting with her. So relaxed that he just kind of -

He lifted his head ever so slightly, taking in her beauty, his eyes drawn to her -

She felt the sudden movement and lifted her head to lazily gaze at him. With such - _such -_

The air shifted between them, and his eyes kept flickering to her lips, and he  just -

He leaned in, and she leaned in, and they both leaned in as if - as if some great gravitational force was gently guiding them towards each other, and her lips upon his were just the _most_ \- they were -

**_Cosmic_.**

He broke apart from her - only to catch his breath - before kissing her more deeply, infusing all passion and affection and want and need into the kiss. 

It was a kiss that he had merely _dreamed_ about through pockets of weakness on his failed journey to move on from her.

And if he didn’t - if he didn’t stop _now_ - 

He summoned all the willpower he could muster and broke away from their blissful exchange.

It wasn’t easy.

But this - it wasn’t - she had explicitly expressed a desire to start things slow. And he let his primal instincts and attraction to her get the better of him. 

It wouldn’t happen again.

He apologized. It was wrong of him to start something so passionate so quickly after - 

But when he looked up and saw her - her _merry_ \- expression, he - 

Well, he - 

“We can’t waste anymore time.” She had almost a pleading look about her. Grasping his hand, staring at him with adoration. With - _impatience_. 

Was she - was she _serious_? He was so sure she wanted things slow - to discover on her own what she really, _truly_ felt about him - apart from Will, apart from near misses of death, apart from - 

But - as he stared at her now - it was - it was _clear_ to him that she was already there. 

“And since we’re _cursed_  or whatever nonsense...”

_Had to go there, didn’t you, Simmons?_

And if they’re keeping score with that, they almost - _you know -_ **died** today from a bloody grenade, so his argument still had a bit of merit.

Clearly, she didn’t care.

The hold she had on his hand tightened. “I’m tired of seeing our friends ripped apart from each other.” 

He knew the feeling,

“That _can’t_ happen to us again. I won’t let it.” Her eyes were fiery with passion and determination, and he fell a bit in love with her all over again. Just from that - just from that one look. 

For in that look, he saw intensity and strength and _love -_ and it was - 

They were first Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons and then Fitz and Simmons and then FitzSimmons and then Fitz without Simmons and now - now _finally_ \- they were becoming something different. Something _else_. Something _more_ than FitzSimmons. 

Something better. 

And her look - that - that _look_ showed him that whatever they were to be - whatever they would face - they would face it _together_. 

“Then we won’t let it.” 

He was finished fighting the world on his own, and she was finished fighting the world on her own, and she’s said it herself before: 

Together, they were twice as smart.

But not just smart. 

 _Together_ , they were - well, they were - 

_Something magnificent._

And he described her as such before playfully pointing (with their still interlaced fingers) to his stupid poster instead.

And that laugh - her _real_ laugh - 

He kept babbling on and on to keep hearing that laugh before he was halted by her lips on his, her hands gripping his collar. 

Because apparently that’s what they did now. 

Kissed each other quiet. 

He rather liked this new development in their relationship. 

That was a lie.

He fucking _loved_ it.

He returned the kiss eagerly, grabbing her waist, pulling her towards him, steadying her. 

They just stayed like that. 

Against his bed. Trading kisses. Beginning this terrifying, exhilarating new step together. His hands were restless. Wanting to explore every part of her. 

His hands started at her waist. 

How many times had he dreamed of holding her in his arms? For an infinite, uninterrupted amount of time? When she didn’t have to break away, and he didn’t have to break away, and neither of them had to break away - severing the connection, severing the bond. 

Just _thinking_ of all the times they were - he held her more firmly to him.

His hands moved to her shoulders. 

They were beginning to deepen their kisses, breaking apart for air and then diving right back in. 

His tongue darted out, tracing, wanting to taste all he - wanting her to open her -  for his tongue to - for - 

She let him.

And all the while, his hands roamed over her shoulders, her upper arms, the juncture between her collarbone and neck. He wanted to - he _needed_ to feel - 

They were both breathing hard, catching their breath after each new kiss, exhaling in pleasure.

His hands moved to cup her face, stroking her cheeks softly with his thumbs. 

Their kisses grew less frantic and they just reveled in the simplicity. 

Her hands gripped his wrists. Gently. She let him take the lead. 

He tenderly sucked on her top lip and then did the same to her bottom one. She moaned, and he had never felt more sensual. 

And when she deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring his eager mouth, his hands moved to tangle themselves in her hair, and her hands rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. 

They slowly broke apart, his eyes closed, not wanting to - but when he finally did open - what he saw was - 

She was staring at him in wonder - with _elation_ \- with a look of such contentment that he had never - 

Their breathing became less ragged, and he unthreaded his fingers from her hair to grasp the ones splayed on his chest. They just - they gazed at each other - holding hands, his thumb moving back and forth, stroking her hand softly.

And then - as they - once what they had just done registered - 

At the same moment - in a perfect example of their psychic link - 

They burst out laughing.

“You’re telling me,” Fitz began, once he recovered a bit. “We could’ve been doing _that_ -” 

“The whole time, yes.” Jemma grinned, eyes wet with tears of glee. 

“Because that - that was -” Fitz stammered, his mind foggy. Delirious. 

“My sentiments exactly.”

“You know - as much as I _hate_ to -” Fitz gave her a purposefully dramatic, smoldering look that threw her in hysterics again. “We should probably get back to -” 

“-helping our friends. You’re right.” 

He thought about teasing her about _always_ being the right one, but he much preferred her kissing him to her slapping him, so he wisely kept his mouth shut. 

He sighed, slinging an arm around her shoulder, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“We’ll continue this later,” he breathed huskily. 

Jemma’s smile was sultry as she reached up to stroke his face, pecking his lips gently before moving them to his ear, whispering.

“I’m counting on it.” 

Fitz groaned. 

Jemma - _the little minx_ \- looked at him innocently.

“You can’t just do that and then expect for us to - we have work to do, Simmons.” 

Jemma batted her eyelashes. Seductive. “I assure you that I have not a clue as to what you’re referring.” 

Fitz shook his head, trying to be cross with her, but completely failing. Because, he just - _you know_ \- snogged the love of his life who apparently felt the same, so. 

He couldn’t be cross with her, and he couldn’t stop smiling, and he couldn’t be bothered to care at all about either of those predicaments. 

-

And after four minutes of brainstorming and coming up short on how to save their inhuman friends from the likes of Hive, he felt a rumble, and his heart began to pound in his chest. 

_Uh oh. That would mean -_

He turned around, keeping his arm still around Jemma’s shoulders, to see dust pouring on his bed. 

“It’s - it’s _Daisy_.” Jemma said. Stunned.

The rumble grew louder, and he encompassed Jemma in his arms, shielding her from any flying debris. 

It was official. 

They were _cursed_.

Yet. 

This time. 

He didn’t give a damn about it. 

They would find a way to help Daisy. 

They would find a way to stop Hive. 

And they would do it _together_. 

They were cursed. 

But they were also _something magnificent_. 

And he wasn’t about to let the bloody cosmos stop them. 


	62. As We Deviate from That Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words for this one. Um. Enjoy?

“I suppose it’s very new.”

“No, it isn’t.” 

Jemma smiled sheepishly, unable to meet Mack’s eyes for a moment. 

He was right. 

She and Fitz - well, they were  _years_ in the making. 

“No. I suppose not,” Jemma said in a soft voice. 

“Hey. If there’s anybody on this planet that deserve happiness, it’s you two.” Mack’s smile was warm, and Jemma was touched by his kind words.

“Thank you, Mack. And um - just to be clear - we didn’t go off our comms earlier to - _to_ \- um...” 

Mack gave a hearty laugh, and though it was a nice sound to hear after seeing him so sullen the past few days, it did nothing to ease her mortification. 

Jemma knew she sounded ridiculous, but she continued regardless. “We were - we were merely _talking_ \- not what - not - not _\- that_ ,” she finished lamely.

“And I suppose you were only talking about how to better seduce Holden Radcliffe with science.” 

Jemma’s cheeks grew warm at the word _seduce_ , and she nervously fiddled with her blazer’s sleeve, picking off imaginary lint.

Mack chuckled again and then sighed deeply. “Okay. I’m going to back to the quinjet - see what all I can unload for us as we contemplate our next move.” He gave her a pointed look. “You good to stay here and wait for Fitz?” 

Jemma nodded, a bit over-enthusiastically. “Yes, of course.” 

“Good.” 

Mack dug his hotel key out of his pocket and placed it on the desk before heading towards the door. 

“Mack, you forgot your -”

“No, I didn’t.” Mack shrugged her off, not even glancing her way, and then left her alone in the room, shutting the door behind him. 

_Well, that was a bit odd._

But her concern for Fitz outweighed her confusion with Mack, so she didn’t dwell on his actions any further. 

-

“Jemma?” 

She brought a hand to her heart, exhaling deeply, and hurriedly rushed to find Fitz entering the room, duffle bag in tow. 

"Where have you been?” She didn’t care that her tone sounded more than slightly exasperated. 

“Looking for you.” Fitz sighed wearily, looking just about as relieved as she felt. 

 _Was it or was it_ not _his_ _idea to meet at the rendezvous point the minute they were ripped away from each other?_

Why did she have to follow the instructions while _he_ had an exception? 

She reminded him of their plan, but her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

 _Honestly_.

He asked her about Mack’s whereabouts, and when she told him what Mack was doing, he simply nodded. 

He let the bag slide off his shoulder, hitting the floor with a _thud_ , and Jemma’s heart started beating a bit more quickly, their earlier conversation playing in her head. 

_**Which is why we should stop thinking all together...** _

He tossed his hotel key onto the bag and slowly advanced towards her. 

“Well. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

They certainly did. She didn’t know what happened to him, but she needed to tell him of her run-in with... _with..._

**_We should stop thinking all together..._ **

She couldn’t make coherent thought with him staring at her like that - breathing hard - the air in the room so thick it could - 

**_Stop thinking all together..._ **

She didn’t know who made the first move. All she knew was her eyelids fluttered closed with the heat of his gaze, and she felt him grab her passionately, both of them moaning simultaneously as their lips met. 

**_Stop...stop thinking..._ **

So the moment they dove in for another kiss, she did exactly that. 

She stopped thinking.

She wanted to - she _needed_ to - 

She slid Fitz’s sports jacket off his shoulders, and he took the lead, removing the jacket and tossing it to the floor while she eagerly rid herself of her blazer.

He refused to stop kissing her all the while.

She moved to his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, her lips remaining on his. He deepened the kiss, letting her hastily undress him, gripping her waist tightly, his breathing as ragged and shallow as hers. 

He held her more tightly in his embrace as she gripped his tie, wanting to - 

But - but his lips were just so - 

She grabbed his face instead, letting him hold her and kiss her and _love_ her, and she could hardly - 

_Hardly -_

It was - 

She could - 

He stopped them, removing her hands from his face and resting them against his chest. Against his heart.

Against his heart that was beating rather rapidly. Against his heart that was beating rather rapidly in time with her own. 

He rested his forehead against hers, and it was such a - quite a contrast from their frantic kissing to - _to -_

A moment of pure bliss. Absolute peace.

She couldn’t fight the smile that stretched across her face if she tried.

 _God_ , she was so madly in love with him. 

“Jemma.” His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, and she answered. Softly.

 _Contently_. 

And then he poked fun at her freezing hands, and her eyes were wet from the - well, the absolute perfection of - of _them_ , and - 

She played along, and he tenderly held her wrists while she brought her hands up to her face. 

They _were_ actually pretty cold. 

He secured her hands in his and then he - 

He warmed up her hands with his hot breath, and if that wasn’t the most _sensual_ - 

He was driving her _mad_. 

She tilted her head, teasing him. Her question barely more than a pant. 

A _challenge._

“I’ll do my best to power through.” 

His eyes sought out her lips once more, and he grabbed her once more, and they moved together, kissing, until her calves hit the foot of the bed. 

They fell together, him hovering over her. Kissing her. His arms supporting him. 

They broke from the kiss, openmouthed, breaths mingling a brief moment before their lips fused together again. 

She had never felt more - 

_Sexy._

Or more playful, because she shifted their weight until she was straddling him.

He was just so -

_Turned on._

As was she. 

It was evident how much he wanted her, and it was evident how much she wanted him, and they were - 

She got to work on his tie, loosening the knot, slipping it over his - 

Well. 

_Almost._

It got caught just under his nose, but her movements were too quick, too sloppy for her to realize, and he issued a slight _yelp_ from the action. 

She let go of the tie, bringing her hands to her mouth, grimacing. 

“Sorry!” 

Fitz chuckled easily, making the loop wider and freeing himself from the tie. 

“Geez, Simmons. If I had known you were _this_ eager, I would’ve -” 

“That’s quite a statement coming from someone -” Her retort was muffled by Fitz’s lips as he took advantage of their bickering and rolled them over so that he was on top again. 

He gently broke from the kiss, before his lips brushed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, steadily moving to her neck, nipping playfully before kissing the spot. 

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head at the sheer ecstasy of the - well, the - 

_Oh._

_Oh, **Fitz.**_

He kissed his way up to her earlobe, murmuring softly. 

“You were saying?” 

She moaned.

She reached for him, fumbling with his buttons, but he grabbed one of her hands, pressing an openmouthed kiss on her palm, his eyes never leaving hers. 

“Seem a bit unfocused -” His grin was _so_ maddening and yet - 

 _God,_ she wanted him. 

“- best I do it.” He sat back on the bed and started working on his shirt, his eyes locked with hers the entire time. He had just unbuttoned the last one when she could bear it no longer and sat up, her arms snaking through his open shirt, her hands at his waist, pulling him towards her for a heated kiss. 

He halted their feverish exchange to stare at her, eyes black with lust and shining with wonder. He placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, lingering. His eyes asking her permission to - _to -_

She already knew the question. 

She nodded. 

She reached behind her, feeling around for her zipper, the headiness of the moment distracting her from the task at hand. Once she located it, she slid the zipper down, biting her lip, refusing to break eye contact with him. 

Her hands flew to the hem of her top when they were - once more - captured in his own. 

“Let me.” His voice cracked with emotion, and she could - again - only nod in response. He slowly slid her blouse up her torso while she raised her arms, allowing him to slip the offending garment off her head. 

_“Ow!”_

The zipper was caught in her hair, and his fingers worked to untangle her. 

Once freed, he ran his fingers through her hair and brought her head to his chest, kissing the spot where her hair was pulled as she giggled. 

“Sorry, Jemma.” She lifted her head and saw his sheepish smile. 

She smiled back. 

His smile turned into something - _something else -_ once it finally dawned on him that she was sitting before him, practically topless. 

Had she known what kind of - well, what kind of _evening_ awaited them, she would’ve worn something a bit sexier. 

Probably black. 

Probably lace. 

Probably not much of anything, really.

Be that as it may, Fitz didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, gazing at her in her simple nude bra, his eyes dilated with want and admiration. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

And suddenly, she - 

Well, she felt - she felt very, very shy. 

It was silly. 

They had known each other for twelve years. And been best friends almost the entirety of those years, but it was - 

This was - 

**_Fitz._ **

This was - 

He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers reaching for her bra clasp as her lips found his pulse point, sucking gently. 

At the third attempt with no avail, she giggled into his neck. 

“Who’s the unfocussed one now, Dr. Fitz?” 

He simply groaned in response, and she smiled into his neck.

Finally, on his fifth try, he unclasped her bra, hands sliding the straps off her shoulders and down her arms. 

She felt vulnerable under his gaze, and he leaned forward, kissing the spot between her breasts until she gripped his hair roughly lifting him up to give him a searing kiss. 

He encompassed her in his arms, bare chests tightly pressed against each other, and he was still wearing his shirt, and the - the - _feeling_ \- of their skin on each - each _other -_

Her eyes closed at the contact, and she moaned into his lips, their kisses becoming sloppy. 

She stripped him of his shirt, and this time, it was her turn to stare. 

What was once a lanky build had turned into a bit of lean muscle, and her hands moved about him wantonly - wanting to _feel_ \- to feel _all -_

Still kissing him, she reached for his belt buckle at the same moment he reached for the button of her leather pants. 

They stared at each other and then glanced at their hands and back at each other before chuckling. Anxious. 

_Nervous._

“I can’t think of - It’s probably a better idea we -” Jemma struggled to make coherent thought, but luckily Fitz caught on. 

“Yeah, good point.”

They both kneeled on the bed, undoing their own buckles and zippers and buttons until they were facing each other with only her knickers and his briefs as any sort of - 

She watched Fitz’s expression change to one of - 

“Do we - do we need any sort of -” 

Jemma shook her head rapidly, never more grateful that she was using an intrauterine device.

She exhaled shakily. “So this is - this is -” 

Fitz surged forward, kissing her, holding her firmly in his arms as he laid them both down on the bed. 

“No. more. thinking,” he whispered, punctuating each word with another kiss. 

He reached for her and lightly gripped the hem of her knickers, sliding them down her legs, until they were loosely hanging from her ankles. He removed them and tossed them behind his back while she got to work on his briefs. 

And then - 

And then he - 

He - he - he - he - he - he - he - he - he - he - he - he - he - 

And then _they_ - 

_They -_

_They - they - they - they - they - they - they - they - they - they - they - they -_

_**They.** _

_**THEY.** _

**_THEY._ **

**_THEY._ **

**_THEY._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH.  
_ **

**_OH._ **

**_OH._ **

**_..._ **

**FITZ.**

-

They were wrapped up in each other, the top sheet tangled up at their feet. 

Sighing. 

_Sated._

Her head rested on his chest, and he had one hand playing with her hair, his other hand loosely intwined with hers. 

“What ever happened - I’m surprised Mack hasn’t come back yet,” Fitz mused aloud.

“I know. It’s quite strange that he -” A sudden thought struck her, and she was overcome with a fit of giggles, burying her face in his chest. In his neck. “ _Of course_.”

“What am I missing, Simmons?” 

She lifted her head to look at him. “Mack. He and I - well we sort of talked about you - while he was here, and I was going out of my mind with worry which wouldn’t’ve have happened if you had _just -”_

“ _Jemma_.” 

“He knows about _us_ , Fitz.” Fitz’s eyes grew wide at the admission. She sat up slightly, suddenly feeling a bit exposed and reached for the abandoned sheet, covering the two of them with it. “I didn’t - didn’t say anything - but I mentioned you, and he - well, he figured it out. The fib about the feedback tipped him off.” 

Fitz groaned. 

She went on to tell him about the hotel key Mack left behind, flushing as she did so. 

Fitz groaned a second time. 

They stared at each other, wearing matching grimacing expressions when suddenly, they both started laughing.

“He’s a saint, that Mack,” Fitz wheezed. 

“I wholeheartedly concur.” 

“Does this mean - do you think we have -” Fitz was sporting a boyish grin that she so _desperately_ wanted to - 

“- the place to ourselves for the night? It appears that way. Best make use of -” 

His kiss and his - his _hands -_  swiftly ended their conversation.

-

She was the first to awaken. 

She felt so incredibly comfortable, something heavy resting on her torso, and scooted closer to the source of warmth, surprised that the movement made her feel a bit - 

 _Sore_.

Her eyes flew open as last night’s activities registered, and her heart leapt as Fitz’s sleeping face came into focus. Their legs were tangled together, and one of his arms was slung around her while the other was underneath his pillow. 

Last night was - 

It was - 

Well, it was - 

Just - 

To put it quite frankly - 

**_Magic._ **

It _was._ Fitz might have been of the idea of the cosmos being against them, but in her - her _experience -_ the stars couldn’t’ve been more in alignment. 

She knew she was being ridiculous. Thinking of fate and the cosmos and curses and magic, but - 

 _But_ -

Their night was just - 

When they were -  _together -_ for the first time, she had thrown back her hands over her head in pure ecstasy. And he had grasped her hands, keeping them over her head, inner-locking their fingers. And they kept - just kept _kissing_ each other - and it was just such a - 

Their bodies were united, and their hands were united, and their lips were united, and their hearts were united - and - 

It was the best sex she had ever had. 

And it wasn’t because of the actual - the _physical -_ although that bit was pretty bloody great. 

No. It was - 

It was the culmination of their years together - the progression of their relationship - the fact that they knew each other better than anyone else - the fact that he _knew_ her - in every possible way one could imagine.

It was the love they had for each other.

They hadn’t said it yet - No _I love yous_ to speak of - but considering he was the only one she consistently talked to (with or without her phone and with or without Will) on that bloody planet, and considering he never rested for six months tracking her down - how could -

Of _course_ it was love.

She reached out and started to lightly stroke his cheek, committing his peaceful expression to memory.

She hated to wake him, but Mack certainly was expecting them soon. It was time to head back to base.

Unfortunately.

His eyes slowly opened, and when he saw her, gazing at him, a lazy smile stretched across his face.

“A guy could get used to waking up like this,” he murmured sleepily. 

He reached for her hand bringing it to his lips before she interlaced their fingers, and they simply stared at each other. 

Until they started laughing heartily at the same time. 

“I still - still can’t believe we -” Jemma sputtered between gasps.

“Made love to each other all night long?”

Jemma snorted. 

“And. I’m talking _all_ night long.” Fitz waggled his eyebrows, and it threw into another bout of hysterics. 

She buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him, and - 

She lifted her head to look at him. “And there’s - there’s _poor_ Mack, knowing exactly what we’re up to - just waiting on the quinjet for us.” 

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: he’s a saint, that Mack.” 

“Yes, you may have mentioned that a few times last night, Fitz.” 

“When I finally get a monkey, I’m naming him Mack. No question.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt Mack would appreciate the sentiment. In fact, it’d probably be pretty confusing.” 

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” 

She swatted his chest playfully, and he chuckled, grabbing her hand and pecking her lips softly. 

“We probably should start getting ready, right?” 

Jemma groaned. “I suppose.”

“Let’s be honest here, Simmons. I know you’d like nothing more than to remain in bed with me - what with your wanton weakness for me and all -”

“Wanton weakness? You’re one to talk about -” 

“So it’s up to me to make the hard call. Do the thinking for the both of us.” Fitz smirked.

“ _Ugh_ , Fitz. Leave it to you to -” 

She heard her phone vibrate and quickly got out of the bed, stark naked, to retrieve it. When she turned around, she caught Fitz gazing at her admiringly. 

“Enjoying the view?” 

His eyes were glazed over, and he said nothing in response.

“Wanton weakness, indeed,” Jemma muttered, answering her phone. “Hi Mack.” 

_“Simmons. We’re leaving in thirty. Both of you need to put some clothes on, pack up, and meet me here by then.”_

“I’m quite offended by your assumption, Mack.” 

_“Is any of it untrue?”_

Jemma sighed.

“You know I can hear Mack’s laughter all the way from over here.” 

Jemma smirked. “You’re more than welcome to talk to him then.” Before Fitz could protest, she tossed the phone in his direction and headed for the bathroom to - _well_. She was quite sure she looked and smelled of sex - sex with - _Fitz_  - and she -

“I don’t appreciate your - would you stop laughing for just a minute? That’s really none of your - more like bloody _brilliant,_ but that’s not -” 

She smiled before closing the door to the bathroom, shaking her head and chuckling softly. 

 _God_ , she loved that man.

She stared at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was mused and wild - far from the polished look she was sporting earlier the night before. Her lips were swollen, and she could still see tiny traces of the lip color she wore last night. Her eye makeup had all but completely rubbed off. There was a small bruise on her left breast from - _well_. Fitz had devoted a certain amount of time to worshiping her breasts, but he was a bit too eager about it, because he accidentally bit her. _Hard_. She tried to tell him that she wasn’t mad about it - on the _contrary_ actually - but he still felt so bad, that he kept kissing the little spot and soothing it with his tongue. 

She wished he had accidentally bitten the other one. 

Her skin was flushed, but her skin was also - _she_ was also _-_

 _Glowing_. 

She couldn’t have looked more ridiculous, but honestly, she had never felt more beautiful. 

She stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet, allowing the water to refocus her mind. 

She had to center herself - she couldn’t get - 

Couldn’t get - 

Carried...

 _God_ , they had a lot of sex last night. 

Really good sex. 

She tried to rid herself of other - _distracting_ \- thoughts, but when she realized it was of no use, she let her mind wander a bit more to their previous activities.

Really, _really_ good sex. 

-

Once satisfied that she was clean and presentable, she stepped out of the shower, turning the water off, and fumbled for a towel. 

She walked into the room to find Fitz still lying on the bed, the thin sheet pulled up to his torso. 

“You heard Mack, Fitz. He said thirty. It’s been fifteen.” 

Fitz pouted as she started to dress herself, putting on her bra and a fresh pair of knickers, letting the towel fall to the floor. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing? Covering up your gorgeous body like that. Crying shame if you ask me.” 

“It’s going to _be_ a shame if you don’t start getting ready, Fitz.” Jemma’s tone was stern even as it was muffled by the grey jumper she slipped over her head. “You need a shower.” 

“Why?” Fitz smiled slyly. “My pheromones too much for you to handle, are they?” 

Jemma scrunched up her nose. “Too much for Mack to handle, I would assume.” She zipped up her black jeans and pulled out a clean pair of socks. 

Fitz shuddered. “Just _had_ to go there, didn’t you? _Alright_.” He reluctantly got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. He turned around. “Just know that this -” Jemma rolled her eyes as he gestured towards his body. “- is off limits until further notice.” 

Jemma huffed. “Enough of your empty threats and just shower already.” 

And when he emerged ten minutes later, a towel slung low around his waist, his hair wet, she couldn’t help but eye him appreciatively. 

Fitz smirked. 

-

They arrived at the quinjet sixteen minutes late. 

Mack only sighed in response. 

-

Read the other perspectives of that one night in Bucharest. Check out [This Will Go on All Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17461177) (Mack's POV) and [Change Becomes Exponential](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17482855) (Fitz's POV). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We imagine they spend the morning after laughing a lot about what just happened.” - Jed Whedon/Maurissa Tancheroen


	63. Lovesick Fool

Mack, Fitz, and Jemma all sat together in the command room of the quinjet once it had departed from Bucharest and they were safely en route back to the base.

“You saw Daisy?” Mack’s eyes were full of concern. 

Fitz grimaced. “She choked me with her stupid quake powers. Threatening Jemma. Saying she had finally had a family. She’s unquestionably under his sway.”

“What - you mean like a zombie?” 

Fitz shook his head. “Uh - no. No. She was completely lucid. But her - her priorities - her loyalties - had completely changed.” 

Jemma still hadn’t said anything. 

“So she just - she threatened you and then took off with Radcliffe?” 

“Yeah, pretty much. Oh, and also she said she saw the future and someone from our team was going to die, so we have _that_ to look forward to.” 

“What do you mea-” 

“She cut off your flow of oxygen?” Both men turned to Jemma. “Daisy - the woman who watched you recover from hypoxia - cut off your flow of _oxygen_.” 

“Yeah, but Jemma, she was -” 

Jemma put up a hand. “I know. And I don’t - I mean. Of all the ways to -” 

“ _Jemma.”_

“Right.”

“Well, while you were dealing with Tremors, I met some stupid asshole who has fire power. And is also a Hive groupie. So that was a real riot.”

“Great,” Fitz muttered.

Jemma grew quiet again.

“Simmons? You going to mention Ward anytime soon, or should I?” Fitz caught the look Jemma threw Mack. 

“What’s he talking about, Jemma?” 

She wouldn’t meet Fitz eyes as she relayed her encounter of the evening. 

“He was - he was using manipulation - pretending to be - to be _Will_.” She looked up at Fitz then, and he saw the guilt. 

The hurt. 

He took her hand, squeezing once. No use trying to hide their relationship in front of Mack. He still wanted to thank him but couldn’t conjure up a scenario to where that didn’t seem pervy. 

“So I shot him.” 

Fitz let go of her hand, staring at her hard. 

“You - you _what_?” 

It was strange. He knew she was capable of taking care of herself. _More_ than capable. And yet - when she said things like that - it made him want to - 

It made him want to -

He _couldn’t_  lose her again. He just - 

She reached for his hand, continuing to regale her part of the night. 

He _couldn’t_. 

-

“Please. Just let me do this.” 

He saw Jemma’s face when Lincoln uttered those words, begging for her to let him help save Daisy. Begging for her to let him make the sacrifice to help save Daisy. 

She seemed almost _resigned_ to the situation. 

Like she’d had practice with making peace with - 

_Oh._

-

“Do you really believe that, Jemma?” 

They were in his bunk, their legs tangled together, his arm around her. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“What?” 

“Do you really believe that Lincoln couldn’t see beyond his love for Daisy?” 

She turned her head a bit to face him. “Fitz, I thought we were already square on -” 

“I’m not talking about what he did - it was stupid of him to go against an order, and he’s in critical condition because of it.”

“Then, what’s this about?” 

“You _know_ what it’s about.” 

“Fitz -”

“Do you - do you resent me for - for what I’ve done for you?” 

“ _Fitz_.” 

“Because I - they weren’t grand gestures of love or whatever. I wasn’t doing it to be the hero guy.” 

“I know.” 

“So - why -”

“I know that you’ve done those things for me, because - because you can’t lose me. But - but Fitz - when you - when you do those things, I run the risk of losing _you_.” 

“ _Jemma_.”

“No. This is -” She sat up, covering herself with the sheet. “You can’t keep doing that for me, Fitz. I meant what I said. Daisy would never want someone acting so recklessly to save her. And neither do I.”

Fitz scoffed. “Do you honestly think I can physically sit back and do nothing? It’s not some stupid act of valor or whatever.” 

Jemma sighed.

“I know,” she said quietly. 

“So, then - what -” 

“I refuse to be ripped apart from you again. I _refuse_ , Fitz. But in order for us to stay together, you have to stop jumping in front of me every time there’s a threat.” 

“And what if I can’t?” His tone was a bit more hardened than intended, but it didn’t matter. 

Didn’t she get it?

He _had_ to.

“Then I’ll jump with you.” 

They stared each other down for a moment until they both dissolved into peals of laughter.

“How very _Titanic_ of you, Simmons.” 

Jemma swatted at his bare chest. “You’re ridiculous.” 

Fitz smirked. “That’s not what you said twenty minutes ago.” 

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “Your sexual innuendoes are a bit overdone, don’t you think?” 

“That’s not what you - yeah. Okay.” 

She settled back onto him, drawing random patterns on his chest with her fingertips. 

He kissed her temple before murmuring softly, “I love you.” 

Jemma froze.

They hadn’t said the words yet. But _come on_ \- he didn’t dive through a hole in the universe - _twice_ \- for just anyone, right? She _had_ to know that - 

“I love you, too.” 

She lifted her head from him to face him properly again. Her eyes were glistening, and she was smiling, and _really -_ it should’ve been illegal to look that beautiful.

“Yeah?” He cursed his insecurity for needing to hear the affirmation. But _come on_ \- he was convinced for months that she had lost her true love on an alien planet, so he could indulge himself in a little reassurance.

“ _Yes_ , Fitz. _God,_ of course I do.” 

He brought a hand to the side of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. She held the hand gripping her and deepened the kiss, her tongue tracing his teeth in the _most_ - 

He lifted her onto him, and she straddled him, her mouth moving to his neck and then down his chest. 

Needless to say, they got involved in a bit of recklessness of their own. 


	64. Playing Defense

“Good to see you back, Agents MacKenzie and FitzSimmons.” 

Lincoln met them at the entrance of the quinjet after their mission to Bucharest. She quickly released Fitz’s hand, not missing Mack’s quiet chuckle.

Fitz nodded at Lincoln. “Where’s Coulson? We have a lot to discuss.”

“ _Yeah_ , you do,” Mack muttered, uttering a slight _umph_  once Jemma elbowed him in the stomach. 

She rolled her eyes. 

Obviously, he was exaggerating. She didn’t even put a dent in his rock hard abdominals.

-

“Do you feel guilty, Fitz?”

“Why - because of things with Daisy and Hive?” 

“Yeah, and we’re just so - well. I mean - we’re - almost -”

“Happy?” 

“Yeah.”

Fitz sat up in bed, sighing. “I don’t know, Jemma. Being unhappy isn’t going to bring -” 

“I know.” Jemma pressed her lips to his arm, sitting up with him. “It’s just - I don’t want to parade -”

“-our relationship around the base. Yes, I concur.” 

A knock at Fitz’s door startled the pair and they looked at each other, eyes wide. 

“Fitz. I need you in the server room. _Now_. Daisy’s at it again.” 

“Copy that, sir.” The doorknob began to turn and Jemma muffled her gasp, hiding under the covers. “ _Sir_! Don’t come in!” Coulson halted his movements, most likely alarmed with Fitz’s voice rising an octave. “It’s just - I’m _indecent_ , sir. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

The minute the door closed, and they heard footsteps leading away from Fitz’s door, they gave a simultaneous sigh of relief. 

Fitz chuckled. “You can come out now, Jemma. The bad man’s gone.” 

“Indecent, Fitz? Really?” Jemma scooted her head out of the blanket. 

“Hey, I didn’t see you coming up with any bright ideas.” 

Jemma patted his leg before rising up and stretching. “Well, you heard the man. You’re needed for your expertise, Dr. Fitz.” 

“Right you are, Dr. Simmons.” 

She got out of bed, giving him a saucy grin in her bra and knickers before throwing on her blouse and jeans. He followed suit, and she couldn’t resist grabbing his boxer-clad ass as he stepped past her.

“ _Simmons_. This is no time for your lechery right now. I’ve got a -” 

“ _My_ lechery? Do I need to -” 

“Remind me once more of your insatiable appetite? I’m all -” 

“All you’ve wanted to _do_ with me since we got back from -” 

He grabbed her by the waist, sending her mind in a blissful tailspin when his lips connected with hers. He dipped her back a bit, and when he released her, he stared at her. 

Grinning. 

 _Oh_ , that man was insufferable.

He threw on a pair of slacks and a blue shirt. She stepped towards him, wordlessly buttoning up his shirt, and he gave her a grateful peck on the cheek. 

He let her exit the room first, and she surveyed her surroundings before tiptoeing back to her bunk. 

-

He was in the server room again. _Always_ in the server room as it seemed.

She was starting to _really_ resent Daisy for keeping -

Well, no. That wasn’t fair. She was starting to resent the _swayed_ version of Daisy for keeping him from her. And based on his grumbling more than usual, she wagered he felt the same. 

“Feels like everything’s going to hell, and all we’re doing is slowing down the descent.” 

He definitely felt the same. 

And then he kept working with - with those _hands_ \- and then turned to her with a smolder.  

He knew _exactly_ what he was doing. 

She grabbed his outstretched hand anyway, eyes locking with his, and they were just about to -

He let go of her hand abruptly, almost swatting her away, and she turned quickly around to see May approach.

She was starting to _really_ resent the swayed version of Daisy.

-

After their debrief with May, Lincoln and the rest of the team, FitzSimmons headed for the lab when Fitz stopped her in her tracks, glancing left and right, before pulling her in for a kiss. They slowly broke apart, and she sighed, feeling lightheaded from his sudden romantic display. 

“And what was that - what was that for, Dr. Fitz?” Her voice came out a bit breathless, and he smiled, obviously pleased with the effect he had on her. 

He shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear, about to -

“Damn alien-blooded director pulling a sting right in front of everyone, sending an inhuman killer to rescue another alien-blooded agent, and why the _hell_ am I not paid more for this tomfoolery?”

Jemma heard Talbot’s mutterings before Fitz did, and she pushed Fitz away right before they were in Talbot’s line of sight. 

He brushed easily past them, continuing to mumble obscenities. 

“Prob - probably best we head to the lab, Dr. Simmons.” Fitz nudged her lightly.

Jemma nodded. 

If they were to continue to engage in an relationship undetected, it certainly wasn’t the brightest idea to snog each other in the hallway.

-

Jemma was checking Daisy’s vitals as the agent slept. She couldn’t imagine the horrors Daisy had woken up to once Lash had freed her from the sway. 

She felt a strong pair of arms encircle her from behind, and she leaned into the embrace. 

Fitz planted a kiss on the back of her neck. “How is she?” 

“I’m concerned, Fitz. Her mind is her own again, but she is suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms. Hive made her completely addicted to him, and now she has to quit him cold turkey.” 

“I wish there was something more we could do for her,” he murmured. 

“I know the feeling.” 

Daisy’s eyes fluttered a bit, and Fitz let go of Jemma quickly and left the med bay before Daisy’s eyes opened completely. 

Jemma’s disappointment from the lack of contact was nothing compared to what she felt when she saw Daisy’s gut-wrenching heartbreak.

-

They were taking a break from their bleak research in the lab, standing close to each other in the kitchen, sipping tea she had brewed for the both of them when she placed her mug on the counter and sauntered over to him, a glint in her eye. 

She threw her arms around him, encircling his neck, while he still had his mug in hand.

“Jemma! You don’t want to mess with me when I have hot liquid -” Fitz immediately clamped his mouth shut once he realized - 

“No, seriously. Tell me about more about your hot liquid, Fitz.” She giggled at the face he made at her. “And _that’s_ how you do a double entendre.” 

Fitz grinned slyly, finally putting his mug down. “Really? Seems I have a lot to learn,” he murmured, inching his lips closer to hers.

“Seems that way.” Jemma breathed, pressing her lips to his. 

She heard footsteps enter the kitchen, and she sprung apart from Fitz. 

“No need to stop on my account.” 

Fitz exhaled. “Oh, it’s just you, Mack.” He reached for Jemma and she slid her arm around his middle while his rested on her shoulder. 

Mack looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’ve noticed you guys are more affectionate in front of me than you are with the rest of the team. So here’s a question: Um. _Why?_ “

Jemma gave him a pointed look. “Well, of _course,_ Mack. It’s been quite the challenge, hiding our relationship from everyone else.” 

She did _not_ appreciate the loud guffaw that followed. She looked to Fitz who appeared as in the dark as she was.

“I’m sorry. It’s just,” Mack sputtered between gasps. “You guys can’t be serious. _Everyone_ knows about you two.” 

Fitz’s eyes grew wide. “W- _what?_ ” 

“Yeah. Hell, even Yo-Yo knows. Man. I thought you two were supposed to be geniuses.” 

Jemma scoffed. 

“Hey. _Watch_ it, buddy.” Fitz sounded about as agitated as she was, too. 

Mack threw up his hands. “Hey. I’m just giving it to you straight. I’m out fifty bucks because of you.” 

Jemma crossed her arms. “Well, that’s your own fault - throwing away money on the predicted actions of two real live individuals. Honestly.” 

Fitz copied her stance. “ _Yeah_. But um - who did you - who won the bet?” 

“ _Fitz_!” 

“ _Ow!_  I was just curious, Simmons.” Fitz whined, rubbing his arm. 

 _God_ , he was so dramatic sometimes.

“May did,” Mack said amusedly. 

“Well, I’m still quite upset that you told everyone, Mack. This was a sensitive situation that -” 

“Wait a minute,” Mack cut of Jemma’s rant. “You think I _told_ everyone? Have you guys even - you two have about as much stealth as a herd of horny elephants.” 

“ _Mack_!” 

“Un _called_ for!” Fitz’s voice grew shrill, and Mack laughed again, much to the annoyance of the pair. 

“Come on, guys. Don’t shoot the messenger.” Mack grabbed a beer from the fridge and left them alone.

Jemma sighed. It appeared that despite her and Fitz’s best efforts, they were _clearly_ parading their relationship around the base.

Fitz nudged her toe with his. “Come on. Let’s go back and focus on Hive’s evil plans. It’ll be less troubling to think about.” 

They grabbed their tea and headed back to lab, neither of them missing the tiny smirk on May’s face when she walked past them.


	65. We've Had Enough Tragedy

She needed a doctor. She needed an impartial overseer. She needed someone not driven by emotion. 

Daisy didn’t need comfort and coddling. She needed Jemma Simmons.

So that’s what Jemma needed to be. She greeted Daisy cooly each time she came to check on her, only asking questions that would point them towards Hive. She was unapologetic in her demeanor. Deep down, she could sense Daisy knew Jemma cared for her. And deep down, she could sense Daisy welcomed the strong, unfeeling, authoritative treatment. 

Daisy was lucky Jemma was merely being harsh. She felt for the girl - she truly did - but Daisy also strangled her boyfriend and almost killed Mack. So Jemma had to ensure Daisy was completely her own person again before extending any sort of warm pleasantries. 

She’d be damned if Daisy threatened Fitz again. 

-

Actually, she’d be damned if Fitz was threatened in _any_ way again. She was just - she was so sick of fearing for her life so often, and she was so sick of fearing for Fitz’s life so often, and didn’t - weren’t they allowed a small piece of happiness? Of contentment? Of bliss? Of pure, unadulterated joy? 

They were _together_. In any possible way a person could be with another. They were together, and she loved him, and he loved her back, and shouldn’t that - didn’t they deserve to bask in that? Didn’t they owe it to themselves to - to _escape_? 

God _knows_ they needed a vacation. She stopped her most recent work on reversing the effects of those poor people and their “primitive” - as Dr. Radcliffe had so eloquently put it - transformation and started - 

Well, she started looking into - 

It was silly. And she felt slightly guilty for - 

But, they - she could feel it in her bones. This was something they - 

“What are you working on, Simmons?” 

Jemma tried to exit out of her browsers, but May’s knowing look revealed that she had seen everything. 

Jemma sighed. 

“i know it’s quite - quite _selfish_ of me to -” 

May shook her head. “It’s not. Book it.” 

“- to look into something as - _what_?” 

“You heard me. Never take your relationship for granted. _Never_.” 

Jemma wanted to look away from May’s pained expression, but she didn’t out of respect. Out of respect for May’s loss. Out of -

“Trust me,” May continued. “If what you and Fitz have is -” 

“I love him, May,” Jemma cut in. Fiercely. Passionate.

May nodded with a hint of a smile. But it was a sad smile. A _wistful_  smile.

“Then book the trip, Simmons.” 

-

What was - 

May looked solemn. Coulson looked solemn. Lincoln looked solemn. Elena looked solemn. All solemn, staring at her.

“Jemma, there was an explosion in the hangar.” 

In the - 

In the _hangar_ where _-_

“ _Fitz._ ”

She glanced at the video feed, seeing Fitz trapped among the primitives. The mist creeping towards him, and -

 _No_. 

They would _not_ be ripped apart from each other again.

She swallowed her fear. 

“Okay. What do we do?”

-

“They’re trapped inside.” May’s tone would’ve unnerved Jemma had she not already decided to be as cool-headed and methodical as possible. 

Fitz’s _life_ was depending on it. 

The team was careful with the words they used, looking to Jemma, trying to be sensitive. 

 _Damn_ their sensitivity. She didn’t need a calming bedside manor. She needed to save her boyfriend. 

Fitz’s panicked voice haunted her as she tried in vain to work around the lockdown already put in place, sealing his - 

 _No._ She couldn’t think like that. She _wouldn’t_ think like that. There had to be - 

“The motion sensors - you have to get them working again!” 

Well, thank God _he_ knew what to - 

But. how - 

Lincoln headed towards the server system, but - 

That would mean - it’d be too - 

She stopped him. What could they - 

_Of course._

Professor Vaughn’s third year compiler theory. 

It _had to -_ It _had_ to work. 

She wasn’t ready to face the alternative.

She wasn’t ready to - 

And when the hangar door opened moments later, and he safely made it - 

He _made_ it - 

He - 

“Thank you, Jemma.” 

She had to - 

She had to _see -_

 _“_ What the hell is Professor Vaughn’s third year compiler theory?” 

She barely dignified Coulson with a response before running out of his office.  

-

Jemma didn’t stop running until she collided with Fitz, and she threw her arms around him, and he held her tight, and they gripped each other fiercely.

They lifted their heads, staring at each other for a beat, before leaning in for a passionate kiss. He gripped her waist tightly, and she held his face, and they lost themselves in the moment.

Not caring in the slightest if they were spotted or not.

She almost _lost_  him. She broke apart from the kiss, gasping for air, and began to kiss his face all over. 

His cheek. His eyebrow. His forehead. His nose. His jaw. Until he pulled her even closer to him and captured her lips once more.

Their frantic snogging slowed a bit, and they rested their foreheads against each other, catching their breath. 

“Gotta admit, Jemma. The Seychelles are looking pretty good right about now.” 

She smiled. Her eyes were wet and her heart was light and - 

“Ready when you are,” she whispered, embracing him a second time and burrowing her face into his neck.


	66. So, What Now?

Fitz stared down the barrel of the gun Giyera had pointed at him. He raised his hands, slowly. Surrendering.

How many times had he thought of - 

How many scenarios had he mapped out - 

 _“He deserves to rot in Hell,” Fitz muttered darkly, tracing Jemma’s scars. The first time they were intimate, he had been rather - well,_ distracted _and didn’t notice them. But this time? This time, he -_

 _“_ Fitz.” _Jemma stilled his hands and cupped his face. “It’s okay. You’re here, and I’m here, and we’re -”  
_

_Fitz shook his head. “I know - I just - I need a minute.” He sat back on the hotel bed, turning slightly away from her._

_Jemma scooted behind him, massaging his shoulders, peppering them with kisses._

_“You don’t think I want to kill the man who caused me excruciating agony? I do. I can - I can still feel it sometimes. The - the pain. But we - you saw what Coulson did - what he told you after. You_ can’t _-”_

_Fitz turned to her, his eyes wet with emotion._

_“Oh, Fitz.” She kissed his eyes. Kissed away his tears. And her lips found his, and he laid her back on the bed, continuing to trace his scars with his fingertips while his lips followed the path his fingers left behind.  
_

And then there he was. Threatening his life. While the gun that Fitz had crafted specifically for Giyera’s demise lay undetected at his feet.

So Fitz went for broke, wagering that Giyera would be too concerned for his own life than to call Fitz’s bluff. 

He was, and he didn’t. 

“You were a murderous wank before all this.” 

The gun felt heavy in his hands after the kill. But he was alive, and Jemma’s torturer _wasn’t_ , and he moved to open the containment module, freeing Daisy.

He’d figure out the rest later.

-

He couldn’t - 

It was - 

How could they - 

 _Lincoln_. 

He sacrificed himself, ensuring - 

He _saved_  them. He saved them all. 

It didn’t - 

It was too hard to - to comprehend - 

But then - 

Then he saw Daisy, crumpled in the corner, her body shaking with sobs. 

And it - 

The other five simply stood there in silence. 

Out of respect for - 

For all of it. 

No one spoke the entire ride back to base. 

No one needed to.

-

And no one tried to stop Daisy from fleeing - as if in a trance - to her bunk the moment Zephyr One landed. 

Fitz walked away from the team, knowing - _feeling_ \- Jemma behind him. 

He opened the door to his bunk and wordlessly gestured for her to enter the room first. 

She did.

He closed the door, and in less than two seconds, they were in each other’s arms. Gripping each other, fiercely. Tightly. 

He cried into her hair, and she cried into his shirt. 

And then - at the - 

At the same moment, they lifted their heads from the embrace to simply - 

He _wanted_ to, and he could tell _she -_

Their lips met passionately, and he sighed from the - it was all just _too -_

They were grimy and sweaty and exhausted, but that didn’t - 

They peeled their clothes off each other until they were simply standing there. Naked. 

They just - they stared at each other. Overcome. 

 _Relieved_. 

And feeling guilty about feeling that way. 

He lifted her and carried her to bed. He lay down beside her and smoothed her hair, tucking it behind her ear. 

Words weren’t needed. 

So he started kissing her lips, and he started kissing her jaw, and he started kissing her neck, and he started kissing her chest, and he started kissing her breasts, and he started kissing her stomach, and - 

Without words, he expressed to her how much he truly loved her, and without words, she expressed to him how much she truly loved him, and - _together -_ they made words utterly, completely, and unquestioningly obsolete.

-

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes "Glimpses Leading to the Inevitable". Thank you all for sticking with me on this wild ride. It was an absolute joy to write each and every one of these, and I feel more connected with these two characters than I’ve ever been.
> 
> I’m sad that this fic collection is completed, but I’m excited to start working on “Glimpses: Unabridged” where it’ll be open for anyone to request a deleted scene, an extended scene, character thoughts, etc. that have happened from seasons 1-3. So maybe you didn’t like the perspective I chose to write from in chap 14 or maybe I should’ve chosen a different scene in chap 27. Now’s your chance to request. I’m open to write from any perspective (not just Fitz or Jemma’s) but I’d prefer to write about events, thoughts, etc, concerning one or both, bc - let’s be real - their scenes are the ones I’ve watched (studied?) the most. 
> 
> You can request on here or send me an ask on tumblr (same url). 
> 
> I look forward to continuing this journey with you.


	67. Same Story

Chapter 67: Same Old Story

-

It had been three months since Daisy left, and the team (was that what they were still?) was adjusting to its new normal.

Fitz never saw Mack and Coulson anymore. Barely saw May. Barely saw Jemma even. 

And they were bloody sharing a bunk for God’s sakes. 

The one normal he had really started to enjoy was spending time with Radcliffe. 

Whether it was talking shop in Radcliffe’s private lab or watching matches together. 

He had come to really like the guy.

And the fact that he was a fellow Scotsman didn’t hurt either. 

-

“Tell me something, my boy.” 

Fitz took a swig of his second (or was it his third?) beer and glanced over at Radcliffe in response.

“What’s the tale between you and Jemma?” 

“What makes you think we have one?” 

Radcliffe chuckled. “The way you two are around each other… the way you look at each other… passing comments I’ve heard from others at the base…. There’s a story there.”

Fitz nodded, smiling. “It’s a lot.” 

“Match doesn’t start in another hour. We’ve got time.” 

Fitz started at the beginning. Telling him about his early days with her at the Academy. How he had wanted to say something to her right away but was too shy. How they became best friends and lab partners almost immediately. 

He told them about their decision to join Coulson’s team and how he almost lost her when she contracted an electromagnetic alien virus. 

“Would you believe me if I told you Grant Ward saved her that day?” 

Radcliffe shook his head in disbelief. “I know he was a part of your team before… but that’s still hard for me to comprehend.” 

“No kidding.” 

“Let’s talk about Hive’s former identity another time. You were saying?” 

“Well… when I thought… when I was faced with the fact that I might lose her… I began to realize…” 

“Ahh,” Radcliffe murmured knowingly. “The heart knows not what it wants until it’s almost too late for such desires. A sentiment I’m all too familiar…” He trailed off unexpectedly, and Fitz turned his head fully to face him.

There was a far-off glint in Radcliffe’s eyes, but he scrubbed his face and cleared his throat, and that was that.

“My apologies, Fitz.” 

Fitz shrugged, not wanting to impose in whatever _that_ was.

“So, I take it that’s when you two decided to–” 

Fitz grinned humorlessly. “Nope. Ahhh… no. It’s like I said before: it’s a lot.” 

-

“I would say I’m in awe of you two devising a plan of escape from perishing in the depths of the sea, but that’d be a boldfaced lie. I’m not the least bit surprised.” 

“Yeah, only problem is there was just enough oxygen for one of us.” 

Radcliffe stared at Fitz. “My boy,” he breathed. “You didn’t.” 

Fitz didn’t answer. Just brought his beer to his lips, taking in a hearty gulp.

-

“So, to crudely paraphrase, you professed your undying love, planned to sacrifice yourself for her, were rescued from nearly drowning, and then slowly recovered from a traumatic brain injury.” 

“Not quite as eloquent as that, but that’s the gist, yeah.” 

He continued with the tale, his voice growing soft. He told him of Jemma’s hurried confession and then her abduction and what he went through to get her back and how they were the longest six months of his entire life.

Radcliffe settled back into the sofa. “You calling what happened between you two 'a lot' is the greatest understatement in the history of the world.” 

-

After consuming three pints and ingesting Fitz’s story, Radcliffe clumsily turned in his spot to face Fitz. 

“You’re a true hero, Leopold Fitz.” 

But Fitz shrugged away from the unnecessary praise. “The things I did for her… one might categorize that as unhealthy. Not heroic.” 

“I bet your ladylove would beg to differ.” 

“Come on…”

“My boy, you crossed the bloody universe for her.” 

Fitz sighed. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

“You ‘love [her] with a love that shall not die, till the sun grows cold, and the stars grow old.’“ 

“’Bout sums it up, yeah.” 

Radcliffe pursed his lips, nodding softly. And the way he continued to…

“Wait… have you… do you understand what that feels like?” 

And just like that, Radcliffe seemed to sober up, shaking his head, and proceeded to sit up properly. 

“Me? No. Sadly, I’m far too eccentric for that sort of thing.” 

Fitz understood there was a tale there. That there was a hidden truth Radcliffe refused to divulge. 

But he was also three beers in, and the match was almost on.

And – apparently – that was a story for another time. 

Should Radcliffe decide to share it.

-

 

Check out [All Work and No Play](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8120869%2Fchapters%2F18615715&t=Nzg5YWRhY2M1ZGQ0MWQ2YWVlYmIzM2M2MGUxNDQ4NWRhZDExY2MzMSxEUGhJTkd1SQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AKV5sBgaho5BTk3yvqgYDJg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fconsoledacup.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160854554254%2Fglimpses-leading-to-the-inevitable&m=1) for Jemma’s perspective as she continues to adapt to her new role and [Strictly Business, Then](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8120869%2Fchapters%2F18651634&t=MjBiYWMzYjQ3NDE4MTUzOWExOWVkZTFhNDYxNGFiM2VmOWE3OWIzZCxEUGhJTkd1SQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AKV5sBgaho5BTk3yvqgYDJg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fconsoledacup.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F160854554254%2Fglimpses-leading-to-the-inevitable&m=1) for a bit of enjoyable flashback, highlighting the… new parameters of their relationship.

If you read these on tumblr, I've newly improved my blog (with a LOT of help from whatlighttasteslike) where all of these (Glimpses, Unabridged, SADIST, etc.) are categorized by season and then by episode. It's super cool if you desire a little order in your life. <3 [Glimpses Page](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/Glimpses)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with the original continuation as promised! This almost felt wrong… to write this stuff after everything’s that happened, but regardless, here we are! I’ll continue with other side requests and things that aren’t this particular work, but I said I was going to add another 22 chapters to this, and damn it, I will. 
> 
> You are still more than welcome to hit me up with requests. I’m happy to get them, and I have a draft where I’ve stored all of them. I promise!


	68. We've All Been Through Terrible Things

 

 

 

> **NYC BANK IN RUINS. DAMAGES POINT TO QUAKE.**
> 
> Chaos ensues at one of the Upper East Side’s most prestigious banks late last night. A witness claims to have seen the inhuman vigilante identified as “Quake” literally flying from the scene.
> 
> “Wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes,” Dexter Vorheese, 43 years old, said. “She blasted off from the ground like a...” 

Fitz slammed his tablet down in disgust. He knew Coulson and Mack were probably there, close to finding her. But if these past few weeks were any indicator, she was sure to evade them yet again.

“Fitz.” 

He felt a hand and then fingers gently prying his off the tablet. “This won’t help them find her any faster,” Jemma said.

“I know.” 

She leaned into him a bit more. “I miss her too.” 

Fitz shook his head. “I just don’t understand why she’s doing this. Causing this much hurt, and for what? To make a little easy money?”

“You don’t really believe that.” 

“Yeah, and I didn’t believe she’d just take off and leave us either.” 

“ _Fitz_.” 

“Okay, I know she’s grieving, and Lincoln was her whole world, but I...” 

He didn’t finish his thought.

But he supposed that she knew him well enough to understand anyway.

“I think...” Jemma broke the silence minutes later. “I think it’s more than that.” 

Fitz nodded, lifting himself up fully from where he was leaning on the counter, and crossed his arms, opting to put a small amount of distance between them by leaning against the sink instead. 

“You’re taking her side then,” he muttered.

Jemma whipped around to face him. “How can you even-- Fitz, I’m as hurt and furious by this as you are.” 

“Then why are you trying to make excuses for her?” 

“I’m not.” 

“But you just--” 

“Can you let me talk? Can you do that before you go around, making wild accusations that I--” 

“Yeah,” Fitz said sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

He stepped back over to her and reached for her hand.

Jemma still seemed annoyed, but she didn’t take her hand away.

Fitz counted that as a good sign.

“As I was saying... I think it’s more than just losing Lincoln for her. It’s self-inflicted penance.” 

Fitz raised his eyebrows. “Through robbing banks?” 

“How many good deeds pop up after she strikes? She robbed one bank, and the hospital the next town over received a very generous anonymous donation. She pursued a drug cartel, and an inner-city school was granted enough of a stipend to create a STEM program."

“I just don’t get why she’d go it alone. Leave with no warning. And then terminate off all modes of communication.”

“She’s atoning for Lincoln’s sacrifice. Atonement is a very lonely thing to go through.” 

“We could’ve helped her,” Fitz insisted stubbornly. 

“I don’t think she feels she deserves us. Or our help.” 

“We’re her family. That’s a ridiculous thing to think.” 

“I agree. All that happened...” Jemma’s wavered. “It wasn’t her fault.” 

“Yeah, but turning her back on us is.” 

Jemma squeezed his hand in response.

He knew she agreed with him on that as well.

-

Later that night, as Jemma snuggled into his chest, sleeping soundly, his thoughts drifted to their earlier conversation.

He tried to empathize with Daisy. 

He really did. 

He couldn’t fully understand why she would blame herself for everything that happened. 

It clearly and emphatically wasn’t her fault. 

But he thought about it a little more. 

If he were in her shoes and shouldered the blame for heartbreaking destruction, would he be tempted to run away? 

Jemma murmured something unintelligible, and nestled into him more.

He tightened his hold on her.

The answer was simple.

_No, he wouldn't._

-

For more “Fitz is butthurt by Daisy” codas, check out **[Like It Or Not](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/18698179)** , a scene where Fitz tries to console Daisy prior her departure, and [ **Putting the Pieces Back Together**  ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/18714137)where Mack is easily as butthurt. 

Also, **[New Parameters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/19178392) ** is fluffy, so there’s that.

And for anything else, there’s this: [Glimpses](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/Glimpses)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The foreshadowing is so strong and obvious (now!) this season, that I really can’t resist with these. I hope you don’t mind.


	69. Rudimentary Science

Leopold couldn’t stop fiddling with his necktie. 

He missed his mum already. 

It was his first time being apart from her for three whole days and two whole nights, and he was nervous about it.

She had encouraged him to be openminded.

Told him it would be good for him to be around other people and get away for a bit. 

He didn’t understand why he needed to get away. 

And she didn’t want to explain the reason.

But his mum knew what was best for him, so he only grumbled a little bit before going along with it. 

Just a wee little bit. 

-

Jemma set down her half-eaten jelly. 

It was strawberry-flavoured, her favourite, but she was starting to feel nauseous again. 

She sank into her bed and sighed heavily. 

She. was. so. _bored_.

-

“Cub Scouts always do their best, think of others before themselves, and do a good turn everyday.” 

Leopold recited the pledge along with the others, and then their pack leader, Akela, stood up in front of the group and started to talk about the plans for the day.

The boy next to him started poking his side, and Leopold whispered a harsh _stop!_ , but the boy continued, smirking impishly.

Leopold huffed.

Apparently he huffed too loudly, because Akela stopped talking and looked at Leopold and the boy.

“Is there a problem, Brice?” 

The boy pointed at Leopold. “He’s poking me.” 

_What?!_

Leopold swung sharply to face Brice. “That’s a lie, you niffnaff. You were the one poking _me_!” 

"Ooooh,” The boys chorused. 

“Young man,” Akela was suddenly directly in front of him. “We don’t use that kind of language.” 

“But, I _promise_ \--” 

“No excuses, lad. I think you owe Brice an apology.” 

“Sorry,” Leopold muttered.

Brice didn’t say anything back. Just kept on with that stupid smile of his the minute Akela’s back was turned.

He _really_ missed his mum.

-

A soft knock cut into her thoughts, and Jemma looked up to see her dad in the doorway. 

“Hey, love. How’s my brave, little patient today?” 

Jemma frowned. “I’m _dying_ of boredom.” She paused her rant and decided she’d better explain. “I know one can’t _really_ die of boredom. It’s scientifically improbable, except in really rare cases, but that’s how I feel.” 

“Good thing it’s almost dark then, right?” 

Jemma nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!” 

-

The day took a turn for the better, and Leopold almost found himself having fun.

Almost.

Night began to fall, and they all huddled up in a circle, sitting on crude log benches.

“Stargazing is one of the best things about camping, scouts. It’s the only time of the day where the world is at peace.” 

Leopold wrinkled his nose in confusion.

He knew it was scientifically impossible for every single living thing in the entire world to be at peace at the same time. And there were just as many staring at the blazing sun, starting their day, as there were staring at the night sky. 

-

“Ow,” Jemma winced from being jostled in bed. 

But it was worth it.

She heard her mum sigh behind them, “At least take this extra blanket. She’ll catch her death out there.” 

Her dad chuckled and reassured her mum, but Jemma felt the extra weight of the new blanket moments later. 

The night air greeted her, and she smiled, loving the way the breeze felt on her sweaty skin.

“So, my dear. What shall we focus on tonight?” 

Jemma grinned. 

And uncovered the notebook she had tucked away beside her.

“I made a list.” 

-

“Well, we are in a treat tonight, my boys. Falling stars.” 

"Meteors.” 

A bunch of heads swiveled around to stare at Leopold.

He didn’t realize he said that out loud.

“Technically, they’re called ‘meteors’,” Leopold continued. “And they’re traces of the matter left behind when meteoroids burn up.”

“Wally,” someone coughed under their breath.

Leopold started fiddling with his necktie again when he heard the laughter that followed.

-

“It’s gorgeous!” Jemma clapped her hands excitedly. 

“Amazing how much the meteorites look like falling stars. Such beauty--”

“Meteors.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“They’re meteors, Dad. Once they hit the ground, they’re meteorites.” 

Her dad smiled. “Is that so?” 

“It’s a common mistake. Don’t feel bad about it.” 

“Well, I appreciate that, love. Thanks for reassuring your old man.” 

“You’re quite welcome.” 

-

After Leopold’s science lesson that nobody asked for, the pack continued to stare at the sky in silence. 

Leopold inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down. 

Focussing on the meteor shower helped with that. 

It was comforting to think that space rubbish (for that’s essentially what meteors were, right?) could look so beautiful if seen through the right perspective. 

And maybe something stupid and worthless to one might be considered brilliant by another. 

-

“It’s amazing how pretty rubbish can look from this angle, isn’t it?” Jemma breathed.

Her dad shook his head. “Only you, my Jemma, would think about it like that.” 

“It is! In space, they’re just worthless pieces of junk, but from down here, they look magnificent.” 

“That they do, Jemma.” 

Jemma thought about what her father said earlier, and her lips started to quiver. 

“Jemma?” Her dad was at her side instantly. “Are you alright, love? Are you in pain? Let me wheel you inside.” 

“No!” Jemma lifted her hand, and her dad paused, still looking worried. “Sorry, it’s just... do you really think I’m the only one who sees a meteor shower that way?” 

“Come again?” 

“I... It’s silly.” 

“Jemma,” Her dad took her hand in both of his. “What’s this about?”

"Sometimes I wish there was someone out there who truly understood me. I know I’m not like most girls my age.” 

“That’s not a bad thing.” 

“No, I know. I like myself. I do.” 

Her dad squeezed her hand. “But?” 

“But I’m lonely,” Jemma said simply. She sniffled, wiping away a few stray tears.

“Oh, my sweet. You have an extraordinary gift.” Her father smoothed her hair a bit and then continued. “And sometimes people with extraordinary gifts can feel out of place. But you’re just different from the others, Jemma, and I’m ever so grateful that you are. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” 

He swept her up in a gentle hug. 

Her heart felt lighter.

“As it so happens, we are currently under a multitude of shooting stars. Might not hurt to make a wish.” 

“Dad,” Jemma rolled her eyes. “There is no scientific evidence to suggest that-” 

“I know,” he winked. “Worth a shot.”

Jemma gazed back up at the sky. 

_Worth a shot._

_-_

For a current glimpse of this ep, check out **[Let There Be](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/19193275)**.

For everything else, there’s **[this](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/Glimpses)**! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty sure Fitz’s incredulity of no one else being a scout confirms that he himself was in the Scouts. Fun fact: the Scouts implement names from Kipling’s The Jungle Book to create a sense of oneness with nature, so the pack leader usually goes by “Akela”. Who knew?
> 
> And because we weren’t given ages for his scout escapades nor Jemma’s scoliosis surgery recovery, this is a complete, kismet possibility. 
> 
> Anyone suddenly got “Somewhere, Out There” stuck in their heads?


	70. The One

 

“Oh... _yes._ Right there. Just...” Jemma trailed off, unable to continue speaking. 

Fitz. 

Had. 

The. 

Best. 

_H a n d s ._

“Your new position is completely taking a number on you,” Fitz muttered behind her.

“Don’t... stop.” 

Fitz chuckled, kissing her shoulder briefly, and then resumed his work.

“Far too many knots.” 

“Must be directly correlated to the amount of times that Director Mace uses his catchphrase. ‘A team that--'"

“Careful with that thought, Jemma. I just found a new one.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes half-heartedly. 

She was too bloody relaxed to be annoyed. 

His fault, really.

He started to slow his ministrations, and she sighed contently. When kneads turned into light scratches, she leaned back into him.

“Thank you.” 

He wrapped his arms around her middle and rested them on his legs that were slightly bent on either side of her. 

He leaned in close and kissed her cheek affectionately. “My pleasure.” 

“Really, Fitz. If S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t work, you could give professional masseuses a run for their money,” Jemma said, still a little breathless. 

“What can I say? Engineers understand how to best use their hands,” Fitz murmured low and deep.

“I’m well aware of that,” Jemma retorted huskily. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his, and he wasted no time in deepening the kiss. He reached to undo the rest of the buttons on her shirt. 

Well. 

 _His_ shirt, technically. 

She remembered several months ago when he stepped out of the bathroom and found her _only_ in his shirt, waiting for him.

He gave it to her on the spot. 

“Bathroom,” she mumbled between kisses. 

She had completely forgotten about the bathroom. 

She ripped her lips away from his and swatted at his hands, ignoring his pout. She clumsily grabbed her tablet from her bedside table, unintentionally sticking her knicker-clad ass in Fitz’s face. 

“Jemma...” Fitz started. 

“We have to consider what we want in our bathroom, Fitz. I didn’t even include it in my initial searches.” 

She crawled back over to him, nestling herself between his legs again. 

Fitz groaned when he saw her fix the buttons he had hastily undone. “Jemma, can’t this wait? We were kind of in the middle of something.” 

She was already too focused on her tablet to pay him much mind. “What do you think about vanity sinks?” 

Fitz sighed dramatically. “Sure. Whatever. Sounds nice.” 

Jemma turned her head slightly to face him.  “I have to have more than that, you know. If you want something else, then say something. This is _our_ home, Fitz. Not mine.” She ran her fingers up his arm and twisted two of them in his t-shirt sleeve. 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he started trailing kisses down her neck. 

“ _Fitz_.” She moaned a little (but just a _little_ ) when he began to bite her playfully. “I’m serious.” 

“So was I. Vanity sinks sound nice. And I’ll be happy to talk with you more about our desired bathroom specifications.” He slid the collar of her shirt farther down her shoulder and kissed the bare patch of skin there. “Down to every last detail. But, for now...” He gently removed the tablet from her. “I have other matters to attend to.” 

Jemma grinned broadly, surrendering. “And what might those matters be?” 

He surged forward, and she readjusted her position, until she was beneath him near the foot of the bed. 

“How ‘bout I show you another skill engineers excel at?”

-

Check out **[Double-Vanity Sinks](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/19215751)** where they try to have that discussion and **[We Should Start a Club](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/19235062)** , a nice little missing between Fitz and May. 

For everything else, there’s **[this](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/Glimpses)**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Still feel free to still send in requests and ask for whatever. You just gotta be flexible with the timeframe. We do have six months, however.]


	71. Bold Strokes

Jemma strode down the hallway, still buzzing from adrenaline after her confrontation with Mace.

For once, she had the upper hand with him. Exemption from future polygraph tests ensured that her team could be as open and honest with her as ever. 

And Fitz could quit being so bloody secretive. 

“Agent Piper.” Piper slowed her step, giving Jemma the chance to catch up with her. “Have you heard anything about Coulson’s op?” 

Piper shook her head. “Nothing. May has me leading our training sessions until they get back. And if you’ve ever gone toe-to-toe with Prince, you’d know that’s a tall order to fill.” 

“Oh? Does Agent Prince lack in agility and coordination?” 

“Nope. I’m just better,” Piper stated plainly.

“Ah.” 

They continued walking in silence. 

Until. 

“So... you’ve really heard nothing about it?” 

Piper shrugged. “If there was any new info, you think they would’ve told me? You’re the high ranked S.H.I.E.L.D. officer. Not me.”

“We don’t have ranks anymore. Just--” 

“Yeah, yeah. Spectrum of security. I read the pamphlet.” Piper stopped walking and put a hand in front of Jemma, indicating she should do the same. “I’m sure Agent Fitz is just fine.” 

Jemma nodded over-enthusiastically. “Oh, of course he is. That wasn’t...” She stopped before saying too much. It wasn’t any of Piper’s business, really, and the other agent clearly needed to get on with the training. “Thanks, Piper.” 

Piper looked confused but started moving again toward the training room. “Wish me luck. I’ll need it to get through these sessions.” 

Jemma smiled. “Good luck then.” 

-

She found herself tossing and turning in their bed that night. She hated that they left things so unresolved, and now that her polygraph problem was fixed, there was no need for there to be anything between them anymore. 

Including a beautiful android.

She was hurt.

He was supposed to share everything with her. And while his reasoning was sound, she still couldn’t help feeling hurt from being kept in the dark. 

And it confirmed that she wasn’t paranoid. There was a reason Fitz was spending all of his time at Radcliffe’s, and she wondered how many nights he decided to stay a little longer and work on A.I.D.A. when he could’ve been spending time with her instead. 

It was almost like she was in competition with a robot for Fitz’s affections. 

Jemma shuddered. 

His _scientific_ affections, that is.

Thus, it was imperative they sit down and have a conversation about it once and for all. 

She wanted to talk to him about it. She had enough faith that they would resolve things quickly, but they left things in a way where he didn’t necessarily know that. 

 _No matter_. _I’ll see him soon enough._

And when the fatigue finally crept up to her, she slept. 

_-_

Check out **[This Isn’t About the Polygraph](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8120869/chapters/19240546) ** where we catch scenes of Fitz in the doghouse. 

For everything else, there’s **[this](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/Glimpses)**.


End file.
